Claim Check
by JavaRobot
Summary: The Cadaverini's were going to be the death of them. Literally.
1. Chapter 1

**Just so you know, this was originally, like, 1200 words long when I first wrote it. Then I edited it, and edited it, and now it's multiple chapters. Whoops.**

**I was watching Jersey Boys recently. If you've never seen it, watch it. It's worth it just to see Christopher Walken as the mob boss Gyp DeCarlo.**

* * *

_I'm fightin' hard to hold my own  
No, I just can't make it all alone_

_~The Four Seasons, "Beggin"_

* * *

It had been an exhausting morning.

For starters, the coffee maker in Deigo's kitchen broke. Admittedly, this didn't cause him too much stress; he just used the one he kept in the living room to make his morning brew instead. But it was an ominous warning of what was to come.

Secondly, he was late. He'd hit snooze one too many times and ended up rushing out of bed, his hair more unruly than usual and trying to put his pants on while brushing his teeth.

The third thing that went wrong was a phone call. As he was cramming toast in his mouth and fixing his tie, his cell phone rang.

"Armando here." His normal greeting was muffled by toast, but it didn't matter; the rough clearing of the throat on the other end told him exactly who he was talking to.

"Ah, Armando, my boy." Grossberg cleared his throat again. "Er…you don't have a case at the moment, do you?"

"No." He swallowed the last bit of toast and grabbed his waistcoat from the closet. "I was going to check today to see if Rob needed any help with that assault case of his. Why? Got something interesting for me?"

"Er…well, you could call it that." Grossberg harrumphed. "You see, I was supposed to be in court this morning for a murder trial. Unfortunately, my hemorrhoids are acting up again. They're—"

"Whatever it is, I'll do it if you stop before you finish that sentence." Diego straightened the waistcoat with a sharp tug. "What time is court?"

"Er…it's at…10 am."

"What?!" Diego glanced at the clock. "It's almost 9:20 now! I have less than no prep time! Hell, I'll be lucky to get to the courthouse on time!"

Grossberg cleared his throat. "Well, that's why I said…it's quite a large favor…"

"You didn't say jack shit about—oh, whatever." Diego sighed as he grabbed his coffee. "Are the files at the courthouse?"

"I left them with the head receptionist, Barbara." Grossberg cleared his throat. "Thank you, Armando. You've always been a dear and valued—"

"Save it. I want an extra four days tacked onto my vacation at Christmas." Diego sipped his coffee and sighed contentedly. "I won't settle for anything less."

Grossberg sighed. "You've got a deal. Thank you again."

* * *

Diego booked it to the courthouse. He could feel the coffee splashing out of his cup as he ran, but he ignored it in favor of speed. By the time he arrived in the lobby and picked up the files, it was 9:30. Panting, he glanced around.

"Ho! Hey! Buddy! Ovah here!"

Diego looked over at the man who called for him. His face had a few scars on it, criss-crossing his chin and neck. He had an unnatural tan and a tattoo peeking out of the collar of his shirt. Diego couldn't tell what it was, but he spotted vines and roses spiraling down his neck. He was fairly short, only coming up to Deigo's collarbone.

"Hello," Diego said, extending his hand. The man reached out to eagerly shake it. "Nice to meet you, uh…"

"Zeke! Name's Zeke!" The man swept a lock of his greasy-looking black hair out of his eyes. "You Grossberg?"

"Well, Mr. Grossberg had an…emergency. He sent me instead. Diego Armando."

"Oh! You the lawyer they're talking about in the paper, huh? The one who got that baker off?"

Diego wracked his brain. "…Oh! Yeah, the baker who as accused to murdering his wife. I was his lawyer, yes."

"Great! Just what I need, a Grade-A shark!" Zeke gave him a wide grin. For a man on trial for murder, Diego thought, Zeke certainly was in a good mood. "Blow 'em out of the water, eh, big guy?"

"Sit down, Mr…" Diego frowned. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your last name." He flipped through the file quickly, while Zeke gave him a sheepish look.

"Ah, you can just call me Zeke…" he muttered.

"Ezekiel…oh, no." Diego put his coffee to his lips, desperate for the boost. Maybe he'd overdose if he drank it all at once. "So that's why Grossberg jumped ship…"

"Please," Zeke pleaded. "I know it looks bad, but I swear, I'm outta the game! For good! Look, look, I gotta little girl now…" Zeke fumbled with his wallet and yanked out a picture. "Look it, look it! My Viola's the best thing that ever happened to me! I got straight 'cause of her!"

"You're Bruto Cadaverini's son. Of course." Diego sighed. "No wonder they arrested you."

It was common knowledge, of course, that lawyers who worked with the Cadaverini's tended to end up either in pine boxes or behind iron bars. Diego didn't have to stretch his imagination to consider his impending death if the trial went sideways.

"Hey, hey! You got the wrong idea!" Zeke waved the picture around. "I told you, I got outta the game! My pops wasn't too happy about it, but I haven't done anything illegal since my Viola was a baby!"

"Zeke, I don't think you understand." Diego inhaled slowly. "Your family…there have been a lot of serious accusations thrown around. And the victim was a police officer. This doesn't look very good."

"Yeah, that's the other thing!" Zeke said, shoving the picture of his daughter back into his wallet. "No self-respecting Cadaverini is going to get involved in that! Cop killers get killed by cops, that how the sayin' goes!" He rubbed his head. "Well, maybe my brother'd be that stupid, but he's always been kinda dumb."

"Zeke…" Diego looked over the victim's information. "Officer Joseph Holland…46 years old, veteran police officer. Found shot in the head with his own service pistol in Brookville Park."

"Yeah, that's Joey. We been friends for a long time, too, so I didn't have no reason to kill him!" Zeke folded his arms indignantly. "Joey's been patrollin' my neighborhood for two decades. He's never once tried to pin a crime on me. He was a swell kinda guy! Why would I hurt 'im?"

"Do you want me to be honest with you?" Diego asked. "Because you're a mobster. No one really needs a reason beyond that. Look, I don't think you understand just how low your chances are. The prosecutor's office has been trying to take down the Cadaverini family for…a long time. Now that they have you, it's like trying to get a dog off a t-bone."

"I'm not a mobster! I'm not in the game anymore!" Zeke put his head in his hands. "Argh! No one ever believes me, ya know? I'm an honest businessman, I swear! I got myself a nice bowling alley and a ball and chain at home. I got a kid! I ain't gettin' into trouble and riskin' all that!"

Diego put his head in his hands. If he were smart, he'd plead out. He could probably get Zeke's sentence down to 25 years, depending on who was prosecuting. Except…

Except that meant having Zeke admit to murder. By the time Zeke got out, he would probably have grandkids. Might not even live that long, since the Cadaverini's made their fair share of enemies in prison.

"…Look me in the eye, Zeke." Diego met his client's dark eyes. There was a tinge of panic in them. "Tell me the truth. Did you kill Joseph Holland?"

Zeke stared back at him. "I swear," he said earnestly. "I swear to you, on my mother's grave, I did not do it."

Diego tapped his file folder against his knees. "Alright, then. We only have about fifteen minutes before court starts, so we better get on with it. Start from the beginning and tell me what happened."

Zeke exhaled a sigh of relief. "Alright, so it goes like this…"

* * *

By the time court was about to start, Diego was feeling a bit better about the situation.

According to Zeke, he and his teenage daughter had been spending the day together. It was her 17th birthday, so he'd surprised her with a day off and taken her out to lunch. After that, they went for a walk in the park and got some ice cream. They were minding their own business when a patrolman arrested Zeke out of nowhere. Scarce details aside, Diego was cautiously optimistic.

"So is your daughter willing to act as an alibi witness?" Diego asked. He was taking notes in his hasty scrawl. "That's decisive evidence itself."

"Eh, well, that's the problem, you see." Zeke rubbed the back of his head. "Viola is…she's a sweet kid, she'd never do anything bad! But she's a handful. She, uh…she wasn't with me the whole time."

Diego sighed. "Ugh, what a headache. C'mon, Zeke, be straight with me."

He gave Diego a sheepish grin. "When we were walking through the park, she snuck off. I didn't find her until 1 pm or so."

Diego glanced at the file. "And Holland was killed at noon. So you were looking around for your daughter then?"

"Yeah, I was just sort of…checking some places in the park, you know? Lover's lanes and stuff like that." Zeke shrugged. "I saw Joey, but I never—"

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait." Diego rubbed his temples. "You _saw_ the victim? And you didn't think to mention it?"

"Heh…I guess it didn't seem important?" He shrugged. "What's it matter, anyway? Joey was alive when I saw him!"

"Yes, but it puts doubt in the judge's mind." Diego took a sip of his coffee. "How did you know Holland, anyway? You said you were friends…how'd that come about?"

Zeke waved his hand. "Eh, everyone knows your friendly neighborhood copper!"

"Yeah, especially if you want to avoid him…" Diego exhaled sharply. "Listen, Zeke, there are three people in the world you never want to lie to: your spouse, your doctor, and your lawyer. That's one of my rules." He took another sip of coffee. "Tell me the truth."

Zeke sighed. "Alright, well…a long time ago, right after Viola was born, I was…I was still in my family's business, okay?" He scratched his head. "Let's say we were…llama herders."

"Llama herders," Diego repeated. "Go on."

"So my big brother, Dom, was, uh…herdin' llamas past the police station. Which is a big no-no, so the police arrested him." Zeke shrugged. "Life of a llama herder, I guess. Anyway, I may have been…helping to herd the llamas. But the guy who was going to arrest me was Joey. He chased me down the alley and got me cornered. Just when I thought it was all over…he tells me he ain't gonna arrest me."

"What?" That didn't sound like the cops Diego knew. "Jo—Holland let you go?"

"Yeah, well, he said he knew about Viola bein' born. Knew I had someone on the outside countin' on me. Told me as long as I straightened up my act and flew right, he'd let me go."

"And you did?" That was even more unbelievable to Diego. "You left the mob?"

Zeke shrugged. "I'd been thinkin' about it for a while. Joey just…he gave me a chance. Kinda like you're doin' now."

"Ha!" Diego laughed. "Well, no guarantees about the end result. No alibi, and you saw the victim before his death."

"Yeah, but I swear I didn't do it! Why would I kill Joey?"

"Mmm, the prosecution alleges that you were protecting the family interests." Diego frowned. "A vague motive, but a motive nonetheless. It's been used before."

Zeke put his head in his hands. "I'm screwed, aren't I?"

"Possibly. Probably." Diego sighed. "Unfortunately, that probably means I am, too, because your father is going to kill me."

"Ah, my old man will…just be careful when you leave the courthouse today, alright?" Zeke patted his shoulder. "Check under your car for bombs, you know. The usual."

"The usual?!" Diego groaned as the door to the lobby opened.

A morose-looking teenager walked in, glancing around. The girl was skinny and short, with lanky dark hair and pale skin. She looked a bit like she belonged in a horror movie; in fact, as they got closer, Diego thought she looked rather like a walking corpse.

"Daddy? Daddy!"

Zeke perked up. "Violetta! My sweetheart, you didn't need to come all this way!"

"Shouldn't she be in school?" Diego remarked, but neither of them heard him. Zeke had pulled his daughter into a tight hug and was kissing her forehead. "Geez…"

"Oh, hey, Mr. Armando!"

Diego looked up from where he sat. There, walking towards him, was Mia Fey. The junior attorney at Grossberg's Law Offices, she was, at various times in the day, both his competitor and his protégé. Simultaneously bitter rivals and partners in crime.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

She was dressed down today; expected, he supposed, since it was her day off. But being out of office clothes made her look completely different than he was used to. She was wearing a wrap-around blue blouse and jeans that fit so well that Diego wanted to drop his pen and ask her to pick it up. She'd traded her sensible heels for sensible sneakers today, a comfy pair of black running shoes. Her magatama still hung around her neck, along with the scarf she always wore. But she looked more…relaxed than she did at the office.

Diego ignored the part of his brain that wanted to comment on her outfit (particularly those jeans…) and instead he gave her a sly grin. "Hello, kitten. Come to save me from the lion's den?"

"Ha! With how much you piss me off sometimes, I might just shove you in it." She smirked back at him, her hand on her hips. "I came by because I thought Mr. Grossberg was going to be trying the case. I wanted to see him in action." She held up a little red notebook and pencil. "I didn't know you were involved in the investigation."

"Hmph. Well, I'm not." Diego stretched his arms above his head while Mia sat down beside him. "The old man called me this morning and asked for me to sub in. Apparently, his pain in the ass has now become mine."

"…" Mia leaned a little closer to him to see the files in his lap and he felt his heart beat a little faster. "This is the one with the mob boss' son, right? Cadaverini?"

"That's the one. And the only thing I have on the case is the file Marv left." He waved the thin file folder at her. "He could've at least left me a noose to hang myself with. Save Bruto Cadaverini the trouble."

"He didn't even get background reports?" Mia looked surprised. "That doesn't sound like him…"

"Yeah, well," Diego said, "just between you and me, kitten, Grossberg probably didn't want to put too much effort in. This guy's going to be convicted on his last name alone."

"But…!" Mia scoffed and angrily took the file to look through it. "That's not fair! Everyone deserves a competent defense!"

"Ha! Good thing he's got me, then." The bailiff called for Zeke and Diego sighed. "Well, kitten, wish me luck. I'll need it."

Mia set her jaw as she handed the file back to him. "Please, Mr. Armando. I make my own luck."


	2. Chapter 2

**I love me some Marshall brothers. As annoying as his cowboy shtick can get, Jake Marshall was the character I felt most bad for in Rise From The Ashes. All he wanted to do was find the truth.**

**Rise From The Ashes is actually my favorite case, even though I probably would've liked it better with Maya in it and Ema...not. Gant is probably my favorite villain in the entire series, and the whole idea of the cops/prosecution being rotten from the inside out is one of my favorite tropes.**

* * *

_In my dream, I'm a Western hero,  
Riding my palomino_

_~ The Four Seasons, "Silver Star"_

* * *

Court began at 10 am sharp, as always. Deigo watched Zeke sit in the defendant's chair, looking a little too comfortable for his liking. Up in the observers' seats, Diego saw the morbid-looking girl—Viola, her name was—looking down at Zeke sadly. Beside her was a large, beefy man who was eyeing the courtroom suspiciously.

Mia was sitting next to him, looking surprisingly annoyed about something. He caught her eye and winked, to which she rolled her eyes. He grinned confidently as the judge and prosecution entered the courtroom.

"Well, well," a voice drawled from across the courtroom. "I'll be damned if it isn't the back end of a horse over there."

Diego snapped his head over towards the prosecutor's table. "Ugh. You're an ass."

The prosecutor flicked the brim of his cowboy hat and shot Diego a sly grin. "Didn't I just say that?"

The rising star of the prosecutor's office himself, Neil Marshall. He was young, only 23, but he had the same cockiness that his detective brother did. If ever there was a prosecutor that made Deigo want to slam his head off the wall, well…

…actually, Manfred von Karma took _that_ particular honor.

Still, Marshall was the closest thing to a rival that Diego had at the prosecutor's office. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, but he always fought like hell. Despite the aggravation that came from being on opposite sides, Diego had to admire his spirit.

Marhsall gave a rough chuckle and adjusted his fringed vest. "Mr. Cadaverini, if I were you, I'd hire another lawyer." His dark eyes flashed below the brim of his hat. "All this one does is drink coffee and act smug."

"Don't lob factual statements at me as if they were insults," Diego shot back with a smirk.

Marshall made a shooting motion with his fingers. "Right, then. Let's get this rodeo started, shall we?"

Diego took a drink of his coffee and sighed with satisfaction. "Off we go, _mi amigo._"

* * *

The only witness of the day, Marshall said after opening statements, was the lead detective on the case.

"Name and occupation, little lady," he said when she took the stand. "If you please."

"Lana Skye. I'm a homicide detective."

Diego watched Lana carefully, but his eyes kept flickering to Mia. She was craning her neck to get a good look at the witness stand. She bit her bottom lip as Lana began to talk and Diego felt a strange annoyance flare through him. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, though. As Lana went through her testimony—fairly straight-forward stuff, frankly—he swirled his coffee.

"The victim, Joseph Holland, was a patrolman working in Brookville Park. His cause of death was a single shot to the back of his head. The murder weapon was the victim's own service revolver. Another patrolman witnessed the murder and arrested the suspect at the park."

"Thanks, darlin'." Marshall tipped his hat in respect. "As always, perfect testimony."

The judge nodded. "Mr. Armando, your cross-examination."

Diego took a bracing drink of his coffee before he started. "Alright, Ms. Skye, let's boil down the basic facts again, shall we? A witness saw the murder?"

"Yes. He called in the report at 12:10 in the afternoon." Lana was certainly keeping her cards close to her chest. "I believe he waited until he had called for backup to arrest the suspect at approximately 1:30 pm."

"Quite a gap," Diego commented. "Why didn't he just arrest Mr. Cadaverini on the spot? Seems like it would be easier."

Lana inhaled, though her face remained passive. "I'm afraid I can't attest to the witness' reasoning, Mr. Armando."

"Oh, come now," he pressed. "You've been a detective for several years. Surely you can think of a reason."

Marshall jumped on that. "Objection! Ms. Skye didn't see the murder, and she wasn't involved in the incident. Is she supposed to be some kind of a mind reader?"

"Hmm…I agree," the judge said. "Objection sustained. Move on, Mr. Armando."

Diego frowned. "Your Honor, can we hear about the physical evidence?"

"Of course. Detective Skye, testify about the physical evidence, please."

Lana nodded firmly. "The murder weapon, as I said, was the victim's service revolver."

Marshall tipped his hat at her. "What caliber was this pea-shooter, for the record?"

Diego glanced up. Mia's eyes were still trained on Lana, but she was frowning now. He shook his head slightly and focused on the detective.

"A 9 mm, standard issue for police." Marshall nodded, so Lana continued, "Jo—Officer Holland was shot once in the back of the head, from approximately two feet away. He died instantly."

"Here's the autopsy report, partner." Marshall tossed an envelope to Diego, who caught it. "Signed, sealed, and delivered."

"Hmm…" Diego browsed it for a moment, then set it aside. "_Gracias, vaquero_. Can I cross-examine now?" The judge nodded. "Excellent."

He went around and gestured to the crime scene photo he had. "So, Detective Skye, I understand that you can't give me a _definitive_ answer." He held up his hands at Marshall, who raised an eyebrow. "But you are a detective, so let's hear your thoughts. Why would Officer Holland give up his service weapon?"

"What…do you mean?" Lana asked carefully.

"Well, he was shot with his own gun." Diego shrugged. "But how'd the defendant get it? I mean, Holland was a veteran officer. He knew better than to hand over his gun willingly. So how'd the killer get a hold of it?"

Lana paused, thinking. Finally, she said, "I'm afraid I can't answer that, Mr. Armando. Anything that I can say would simply be speculation on my part."

"…I appreciate your candor," Diego said. "Another question, though I may run into the same problem. So, take a look at this picture."

Lana did so. "This is the crime scene. What of it?"

"His gun, Detective. It's at the scene, on the ground about 4 feet away from the body, correct?" Lana nodded in confirmation. "Any fingerprints?"

"No," she said shortly. "No fingerprints on the weapon."

Diego rubbed his chin. "…Not even the victim's?"

"Objection!" Marshall pointed at Diego. "Move on, Armando. She already answered. The gun was wiped clean."

"Ha! Marshall, you just tipped your hand." He turned to Lana. "Tell me more about the tests run on the gun."

Diego had once played poker with Lana. Her face was one made for bluffing; she kept her demeanor calm and collected.

But…

When called on a bluff, she twitched. It was subtle, but it was there. This time, when he pressed her, she blinked and pursed her lips. "You'll have to be more specific, Mr. Armando. There are lots of tests that can be run on a gun. Fingerprints, DNA on the grip, ballistics—"

"That's the one." Diego snapped his fingers. "Ballistics. Did you run a ballistics test on the victim's weapon?"

A pause. Then, "No. We did not."

"Oh!" Diego feigned surprise. "So…you _don't_ know for certain that the victim was killed by his own gun. Your Honor, the defense requests that a ballistics test be run on the victim's gun."

"Objection," Marshall drawled. "Your Honor, there's no need. The slug in the body was a 9 mm, and his gun was at the scene. I mean, do you need any more proof than that?"

"Unfortunately, yes, I do." The judge slammed his gavel down. "The prosecution will perform a ballistics test on the gun and bring the report to court tomorrow. In the meantime, Mr. Armando, is your cross examination finished?"

Diego took another drink of coffee. He was about to say no, and have the judge adjourn court, but his eye caught the observation seats.

Mia was shaking her head.

She was making direct eye contact with him and shaking her head no. No, he should keep digging. There was something else.

What else, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't one to argue with smart women when they were on his side. He put the coffee down and turned back to Lana. "Not quite, Your Honor. A few more questions."

"Very well. Continue."

Diego glanced down at the file, but saw nothing that he could show for a contradiction. Instead, he said, "Detective Skye, is there any evidence _besides_ the witness testimony that the defendant was the killer?"

"Witness testimony is evidence, Mr. Armando."

"So, no, then." He took another drink. "No fingerprints, no DNA, no footprints? Was there any blood on Mr. Cadaverini's clothes?"

"…Not that we were able to determine."

Marshall adjusted his vest and pointed to Diego. "If he shot someone from two feet away, I doubt blood would get on his outfit."

"Ah. Right. But, still, it's a little odd." Diego rubbed his chin. "If he had shot Officer Holland, I would think that there would be some physical evidence."

"Cadaverini's don't leave evidence," Lana blurted out. Her nose wrinkled as she realized her mistake and Diego heard Marshall groan.

"Well, that's not helpful," Diego replied. "But thanks for the bias, Detective."

When he turned around, Mia was still shaking her head. _What was he missing?_

Well, there was one obvious thing. "One last question, Detective. What was the defendant's motive for killing Officer Holland?"

Lana inhaled and composed herself. "…It was to protect the family interests. His family has a history of…less than savory behavior. We believe that Officer Holland witnessed some of the Cadaverini family's criminal activity."

"Do you have any proof of such a thing?" Deigo questioned.

"Objection!" Marshall tilted his head towards Diego. "Hold your horses, there, coffee boiler. My witness for tomorrow has that answer."

Diego nodded. "Alright, then." His eyes flitted to Mia, who was looking satisfied. "I'll end my cross-examination, Your Honor."

The judged banged his gavel. "Then, court will adjourn until tomorrow. In the meantime, I'd like both the defense and prosecution to investigate this incident. There are a few holes that need cleared up."

Both Diego and Marshall nodded, and began to leave the courtroom.

* * *

"Armando, you sly bastard!" Zeke was literally pumping his fist in the lobby, a grin plastered all over his face. "You sure showed that hick who's boss."

"Don't get too excited," Diego warned him. "I only bought some time. This witness they're queueing up sounds like the lynchpin of their case."

"Eh, but he didn't see nothin'!" Zeke was still beaming as his daughter, her bodyguard, and Mia entered the lobby. "You'll get 'im!"

"Hmph. Well, we'll see, I guess." Diego sighed. Lana's testimony might have been missing some pieces, but it also established the raw, irrefutable facts.

Zeke had already gone over to hug Viola. Diego watched as Mia folded her arms and looked on with a soft smile on her face. He sidled up behind her.

"You know, kitten," he said quietly in her ear, "it would be great for my case if you could stop making bedroom eyes at the detectives."

Mia jumped and her face went pink. "How would you know? Has a woman ever made bedroom eyes at you?" She smirked at him. "And I don't mean eyes that say, 'get out of my bedroom.'"

Diego laughed again. "Teasing, kitten, you can put away the claws. Thanks for the help in there."

She sighed. "It wasn't much help, I'm afraid. Lana's testimony was pretty solid."

"Right, but I'm hoping that the witness tomorrow might be a little more…aqueous." Mia raised an eyebrow. "What? So I have a word-of-the-month calendar, sue me."

"I'm pretty sure you didn't use that word correctly." She smiled at him and he gestured to the door. "Hmm?"

"I'm starving," he declared, "and I could use a little company. What do you say? Burgers on me?"

Mia watched as he held the door open for her. "I never turn down free food. You could say that's one of _my _rules."

"My kind of woman."

* * *

They left the courthouse with a plan: lunch, then investigations. Diego had a few background checks to run, as well as some phone records to collect. If he had Marshall's style down—and he thought he did—then the prosecutor was probably going to rely heavily on the eyewitness. Which meant Marshall was probably going to spend the rest of the day prepping his witness for the stand. That was going to be the weak link in the chain: breaking down the testimony. Marshall didn't have as much physical evidence this time around.

Speaking of Marshall…

"Hey, check out our cowboy friend." Diego pointed, where Marshall was on a motorcycle, idling near the entrance. "Funny, I had him pegged for a horse kind of guy."

"His big brother, Jake, is teaching him ride a motorcycle." Mia chuckled fondly, thinking of her own sister. "Don't you remember? It was all he could talk about at that gala a couple weeks ago."

"Oh, right, I forgot." Diego glanced around, looking for the big brother in question. "Hmm…"

"I know that look. Don't antagonize him," Mia warned. Diego ignored her, heading for the prosecutor. "Diego! What did I just say?!"

"Couldn't hear you," he called back. "Bike's too loud."

He approached the motorcycle, a silver beast that rumbled with energy. Marshall wasn't looking in his mirrors, instead focused on adjusting his helmet. Diego quietly went and settled behind him, straddling the bike in the passenger's seat.

"About time, Jake." Marshall shifted his weight on the bike. "Ready to go?"

Diego rested his chin on Marshall's shoulder and put his arms around the man's waist. "_Ay, papi, _but where are we going? Someplace nice, I hope."

"Armando, get the hell off my bike!" Marshall turned around to shove Diego off. "Next time I see you, I'm spittin' in your damn coffee!"

Diego roared with laughter as he stumbled off the bike. "See you tomorrow, Marshall!"

Marshall flipped him off as he led Mia down the street, still laughing. Mia shook her head, bemused. "You know," she reminded him, "Jake and Neil both own guns. One of these days, they're just going to shoot you. And I'll probably defend them."

"You'll probably get them off on justified homicide, too," he said with a wink.

They ended up at the diner near the law office, a favorite when they were forced to work late together. Diego swore that they had to be using black magic to make their coffee, and Mia was always up for a bacon burger.

"A bacon burger with _only mustard?!"_ Diego sounded personally offended. "What kind of monster are you?"

"The kind who likes mustard," Mia replied. "What, like you're any better? Who gets a fried egg and French fries on their burger?"

"A man who appreciates all food." Diego laughed and clinked his coffee mug with hers. "Plus, you put milk in your coffee. Terrible to taint such a wonderful, bitter drink with anything else."

"Oh my god, not this again." Mia rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "If you spent half as much time working on your paperwork as you do harassing me about my coffee, you wouldn't have to stay late on Fridays."

The waitress brought their food and refilled their coffee. It was delicious, as usual; Diego found himself in good spirits, despite the trial that hung over his head. But then again, he was always in a good mood when it came to Mia.

"You have a little…" Diego motioned to his lip, where Mia had a smear of mustard. She dabbed her napkin on the opposite side. "Ha! Here, I got it."

He reached over and swiped it off with his thumb. She swallowed her bite as he wiped his finger off on his napkin. "Thanks."

Diego smiled at her as the waitress dropped the check off. As was tradition, they both tried to snatch it up. As was usual, Mia got there first. She slammed her hand on the table over the check. He was just a minute too late, with his hand covering hers.

For a moment—just a moment, barely even a second—it felt _natural_. It felt right. He squeezed her hand slightly and said, "I got this, kitten. I'm the one who asked you to lunch."

"Oh, come on, you always buy." Her voice was softer than usual; it seemed she was having her own conflict. "Let me get this one."

Diego met her eyes and felt his chest tighten, as if he couldn't breathe. His brain seemed to be nothing but static fuzz. "…You know, Mia, we make a pretty good team."

She blinked at him. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

He answered his mouth to respond, but was cut off by his phone ringing. Diego pulled his hand away to check his cell phone, which left Mia open to put some cash on the table.

"Huh…private number." He felt a twinge of annoyance at whichever telemarketer was calling him right now. He silenced the phone and stuffed it back in his pocket. "I—hey!"

"Haha, I got there first!" Mia handed the check and cash to the waitress and smirked at him. "Now, what were you saying? We make a good team?"

Suddenly, the courage he'd had not one minute ago seemed to have left him. He shrugged nonchalantly. "You know. In court. I've been hoping that Grossberg puts me as your co-counsel for your first trial."

"Hmm…" Mia thought about it, resting her chin on her hand. "Well, you are the top lawyer at the firm. But you probably don't have time to teach rookies."

He started to answer her, to insist that he didn't mind, that working with her in court would be a pleasure. But he was cut off again.

With an electronic buzz, her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket. "Huh? Private number, too. That's weird."

Diego frowned as she answered it. "Who is it?"

"Hello?" Mia's face contorted suddenly, her eyes flickering to Diego's face. "Um…may I ask who's calling?...Yes. Yes. No. No! He's…um…"

"Who is it?" he asked. She sounded…disappointed? No, that wasn't it. He tried to place it. It wasn't until she held the phone out and he saw her hands shaking that he realized.

Mia was afraid.

"It's for you," she said, her voice wavering.

"Me?" Diego reached out to take it, not quite sure he wanted an answer to his next question. "Who is it?"

"It's…it's Bruto Cadaverini."


	3. Chapter 3

**This was another one of those chapters that just got out of hand. Seriously, the original draft was so different. Also, there's some mentions of some past Lana/Mia in here, because they clearly fucked. It's not even subtle.**

* * *

_Who loves you, pretty baby?_  
_Who's gonna help you through the night?_

_~The Four Seasons, "Who Loves You?"_

* * *

Diego had always imagined that the first night Mia spent at his place would be a romantic one. Dinner at a dimly lit restaurant, maybe a shared dessert with some flirting. Teasing touches and sexy glances. They'd go back and cuddle in bed together, holding each other as they drifted to sleep.

Instead, he was tucking her into his bed and setting himself up on the couch, alone.

As he put down a pillow and dragged out a spare blanket, Diego glanced down the hall, into his bedroom. Soft snores could be heard. He sighed and rolled over on his side.

He already knew he'd have trouble sleeping. He had too much on his mind. Like the mob boss who had called him earlier that day, telling him what, exactly, happened to lawyers who screwed up cases with family involved.

Quote unquote, accidents. Those had been Cadaverini's exact words.

Car crashes happened all the time, he explained. People fell out of windows a lot, too. Oh, and don't forget, sometimes people just tripped near lakes and their bodies washed up days later. Terrible tragedies, he'd said. Wouldn't want that to happen to you or your pretty little assistant.

Diego had tried to argue that Mia wasn't his assistant, but by that time, Cadaverini had hung up, leaving nothing but a dial tone and Mia's worried face.

"We have to tell Neil Marshall," she said as they left the diner. Diego was walking faster than usual, as if he could run away from the phone call. "He's the prosecutor on this case, he can help!"

"It won't matter," Diego replied shortly. "You and I both know that the prosecutor's office won't back down."

"The police, then!" Mia jogged to keep up with him. "Lana or Gant—!"

"Face it, Mia," he snapped, rounding on her. "I'm on my own here. The only real option I have is to prove that Zeke is innocent."

Mia glared up at him. "Fine then. If you're going to be a big, tough man and try to deal with this all by yourself, then at least let me help."

"Mia." His voice softened. "You should go home. You shouldn't even be seen with me. Hell, you should stay far the fuck away until this case is over."

"No." That was all Mia said. There was no debate, there was no argument, there was no room for backchat at all. No. Just no.

That was how Mia ended up following him back to his condo, her face set as he unlocked the door. He hadn't argued; she had made it clear that she wasn't going to let him go home alone. Stubborn woman.

His place had an open living room and kitchen area, with a hallway that led off to the side. It was oddly modern for him, she thought, with abstract art on pure white walls. She raised an eyebrow at Diego, who was unusually quiet. She cleared her throat and nudged him with her elbow.

"What the hell is hanging on your wall?" Mia teased. "My god, is that a full size painting of a disembodied hand?"

Diego gave her a weak smile. "Mia. I know what you're doing. You don't need to try to cheer me up."

"Cheer you up? Ridiculous." She gestured to an antique mirror that hung in the hallway. "And what, you can't stand to go ten seconds without being able to see your own reflection?"

Finally, he cracked a genuine smile. "Well, if you looked as dashingly handsome as I do…"

"Then I'd probably have just as big a head as you do," she finished. He laughed as he led her into one of the bedrooms off the hall.

Now this was more like Diego, she thought, glancing around. He'd turned the room into a home office, it looked like. There was a desk in the corner with a computer, the keyboard completely covered with case files and paperwork. His file cabinet was half-open, with several files sticking out haphazardly. Probably most telling was that there was a coffee maker on the bookshelf and the entire room seemed to be an Easter egg hunt of coffee mugs.

"Sorry, it's…a little messy." Diego rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Here, I have a chair…"

He cleared off an office chair for Mia to sit in. He took a seat at the rolling desk chair and began to clear the clutter off his desk. "Coffee?"

Mia slid her chair over to the computer. "You know how I drink it. I'm going to get started on some of the background checks."

"One café con leche, coming up." Diego went to the kitchen to dig up some milk while Mia waited for the computer to boot up. As it hummed to life, she heard Diego call down the hall. "You know, you don't have to help me. This case isn't for the faint of heart."

Mia crossed her legs and he came back in, two mugs in his hands. He filled them both with coffee and handed her the one that he'd poured milk in. Mia took it gratefully and said, "Are you saying I'm faint of heart?"

"Ha! Not exactly." He took a sip of his own coffee. "Just that I'd understand if you decided to call it a day and go back home. Leave me to my mess."

Mia frowned and started up the computer program she needed. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" she joked.

Diego grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

They spent the rest of the day furiously researching. Diego began to look over the police and autopsy reports. He could say whatever he wanted about Lana's sparse, just-the-facts-sir testimony, but she took extremely detailed interview notes.

Joseph Holland had been killed at 12:10 pm, which a rookie cop named Kyle Idle witnessed. According to Idle, he had seen Zeke shoot Holland and toss the gun aside. He called for backup at 12:45 pm, calling for another officer to arrive at the scene. The two officers found Zeke with his daughter, Viola, at the ice cream shop and arrested him at 1:33 pm.

There were some issues with timing, but Diego wasn't sure if he would be able to tear the testimony apart with just that. His eyes caught a note Lana had put in at the bottom.

Idle-in plainclothes, not on shift. had day off.

It didn't mean much, he thought, but he mentally filed the fact away for later.

Meanwhile, Mia started compiling background checks on the three main players in court. She was furiously searching through the various databases, her fingers clicking on the keyboard and the printer vibrating as it spit out paper after paper.

"Here!" She dropped a stack of files on the desk. "Background checks on the victim, your client, and the witness."

"All three…?" He stared at the files in awe. "You didn't have to do this."

"I did it anyway." Mia stretched a bit and sighed. "Any luck with the interview notes?"

"Not really." Diego leaned back and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "The biggest contradiction is the gap between times. Idle claims he saw Zeke kill Holland at 12:10, but he didn't call in for backup until 35 minutes later. But I sincerely doubt that Marshall hasn't noticed that. He probably came up with a good explanation." He ran his fingers through his hair and took a drink of coffee. "You find anything weird in any of the background checks?"

"Nope. Holland was, apparently, a stellar officer. A few complaints, but nothing founded," Mia said. "Zeke's rap sheet is the longest, by far."

Diego flipped files to Zeke's. "Huh…a few petty misdemeanors and simple assault charges. I mean, Zeke's file supports his story. The last time he was arrested was about fifteen years ago, just like he said. He must have left the mob when Viola was a toddler."

"Hmm…" Mia frowned as she looked through the last file. "Idle is a normal guy. He's pretty young, only twenty. He's an absolute newbie, only been a beat cop for about three months. He's still in his probationary period."

"But I don't get it," Diego said, frustrated. "Why would this guy lie?"

"Well," Mia said cautiously, "are you sure he's lying?"

Diego paused for a moment. Finally, he said, "Defense attorneys are supposed to believe in their clients. That's our job. But more than that…I trust Zeke. I don't know why, but I think he's telling the truth."

"Are you sure?" When Diego nodded, Mia continued, "Well, I believe in you, so I guess I believe in him."

* * *

It was 2 am by the time Diego decided to go to sleep. He'd been over every piece of evidence, every statement, every affidavit with a fine-tooth comb. There wasn't much there; he'd probably have to go with Mia's old standby of 'bluff until something happens.'

Speaking of his lovely colleague…

When he glanced over, Mia had her head on the desk, next to the keyboard. She was fast asleep. Diego smiled softly.

Court started at 10 am, as usual. He had no idea if Mia was planning on coming into court with him tomorrow, but he assumed she would. After all, she was nothing if not stubborn. He gently reached over and shook her shoulder.

"Hey. Hey, Mia." With a snort, she shot awake. "Hey. Wake it up, kitten."

"Urgh…" She rubbed her eyes and yawned. "W—what time is it?"

"Two in the morning," he replied. "Why don't you stay here tonight? It's pretty late to be walking home."

Mia stretched her arms above her head. "Mmm, I don't have anything to wear or anything like that."

"Ha!" Diego gestured to the bedroom across the hall. "Come on, kitten. Let's find you some fur."

She smiled sleepily at his joke and followed him to the bedroom. Like his office, it was a catastrophic mess, with books and clothes lying on the floor. His bed wasn't made and the bedside table had several coffee mugs still on it. She watched as he dug through his dresser drawer.

He pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt for her to wear. She went to the bathroom and came out, dressed for bed. She'd rolled the bottoms of the sweatpants up so that she didn't walk on the legs, and the waistband was pulled tight around her waist.

"It'll do," Diego said with a sleepy grin. "Go ahead and take the bed tonight. I'll crash on the couch."

"No, no, I don't want to—" Mia cut herself off with a loud yawn. "Oh!"

Diego folded his arms. "Listen, it's late and I don't have a lot of time to argue with you. So pardon me."

"Pardon? For what?" Mia got her answer five seconds later, when Diego leaned down and picked her up in a fireman's carry. "Ahh! Diego, hey!"

He took her into the bedroom and dropped her on the bed. "There we go," he said, brushing his hands together. "You're in the bed. I'll head for the couch."

"Do you often drag women into your bedroom against their will?" Mia teased. "Geez. Fine, you win, I'll sleep here tonight."

"Goodnight, kitten." He shut the door and headed for the couch.

But sleep was hard to come by. Three hours after settling down on the couch, Diego had only managed to get sleep in twenty-minute chunks. He kept waking up with new ideas, new strategies, new plans of attack for the trial tomorrow. He was tossing and turning, dozing for a bit, then startling himself awake.

It was around 5 am when he heard someone coming up behind him. He rolled over to see Mia, her hair disheveled and rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"You alright?" he asked. He sat up as she walked towards him. He slid over and made room for her to sit. "Here, let me…"

"I just had some trouble sleeping." She tucked her legs under her as she sat down beside him. "I'll bet you did, too, huh?"

"Must be all that coffee I drink." Diego held the blanket up to share with her. "Cold?"

She gave him a grateful smile and scooched over so that she was tucked next to him, with the blanket over both their shoulders. "Thanks."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, leaning against each other in the dark. Finally, Mia broke the quiet.

"You know," she said softly, "I don't have many friends."

Diego couldn't help it; the strange abruptness of the statement mixed with his sleep-deprived brain made him laugh.

"Diego, for the love of god, I'm pouring my soul out here." Mia shoved him with her shoulder. "I'm just saying, I have a lot of acquaintances, but I'm not close to any of them."

She shifted and Diego ran his hand through his hair. "Sorry, it was just funny how you said it. I wasn't laughing at you."

"My sister is my best friend, but…she's a kid, you know? I don't really have many adult friends to talk to." She looked up at him and folded her arms. "Except for you."

"What about Lana?" he questioned. "You two dated in college, didn't you?"

"Yeah, and that's the problem." Mia wiggled her toes beneath her sweatpants. "Lana and I sort of…fizzled out. We said we'd still stay friends, but we're not close anymore. It's awkward, you know?"

"I get it."

"Diego, you're my best friend." She looked up at him, her brown eyes intense on his own. "You might annoy me to no end sometimes, but you're the only person I feel really connected to."

He realized that she was starting to tear up. He reached his arm over her shoulders and squeezed. "Hey, don't cry. You can't cry yet."

"I just don't want anything to happen to you," she said. Her voice sounded more certain than her face looked. "That phone call scared me. I've lost a lot of people in my life, you know." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "My dad died, my mom left, Maya's back at home…I don't want to lose you, too."

Diego pressed his face into her hair and inhaled. "Don't worry, Mia. It'll be alright. We're going to win this. Bruto Cadaverini or not, we always do our best work for our clients, and Zeke is no exception."

"Right." She huffed out an indignant breath. "You're right. I'm worried, but…we don't have time to be worried. We have time to work."

Diego nodded. "Can't disagree with that. Now, if you don't mind, I have court in a few hours. I'm going to try to get some sleep."

"Okay. Um…do you mind if I…stay out here? I don't really want to be alone right now."

Diego felt his heart pound a little harder as he leaned back against the arm of the couch. "Of course not. You comfortable?"

Mia shifted and leaned back against his broad chest, pulling the blanket around them. "Yep. Are you alright?"

Diego rested his chin in her hair and closed his eyes. "Never better, kitten."

* * *

Diego woke up to the smell of coffee being brewed. He shifted and groaned, stretching to get the knots out of his back. "M—Mia?"

She wasn't lying with him anymore, so he assumed the coffee was her doing. His assumption was proven correct when she came back to the couch, still wearing his sweatpants and t-shirt. "Hey. You can get some more sleep if you want. Court was postponed until one."

"In the afternoon?" He sat up and rubbed his neck. "Why?"

Mia went back and brought him a mug of steaming black coffee. "I don't know exactly. The clerk called your phone about two hours ago and said that the prosecution needed to reschedule for later."

He took the mug gratefully. "You're incredible. What time is it?"

"Little after 11." She had her own coffee, one a much lighter color than his. "I figured I'd let you sleep." He drank some of the coffee, feeling the hot liquid energize him.

"I also called Mr. Grossberg," she continued as she sat beside him, her own mug of coffee in her hand. "I let him know that I'm going to be in court with you today."

Her eyes flashed at him, as if daring him to argue with her. He gave a short laugh. "How did I know you were going to say that?"

She folded her arms and smirked. "Because you know me too well."

Something about the tilted smile on her face, the way her eyes sparkled when she teased him, made his stomach flip. He looked away, focusing on his coffee. After a sip, he said, "Then we better get ready. Might have trouble finding you something to wear, though. None of my skirts will fit you right."

Mia laughed confidently. "Please, Diego. I'm an expert at making things up as I go."

* * *

Mia took a shower first, while Diego tried not to think about her showering. He focused on washing the mugs they'd used. When he finished, he busied himself gathering up the mugs in his office so that he didn't have to see her when she came out.

As if on cue, he heard the bathroom door open and Mia step out. He purposefully concentrated on the mug in his hand, not quite ready to devote precious brainpower to anything that wasn't the trial.

"You can raid my closet if you want," he yelled down the hall at her. "Maybe you can find a jacket or something you can wear."

"Thanks!" He heard his bedroom door close as she went inside. He couldn't help the quick flickers of imagined scenarios that swept through his brain at the thought of Mia, naked in his bedroom. He exhaled and dropped into his desk chair.

He didn't have the energy for this. His concentration was going to be scrambled by the time he got to court if he didn't put the kibosh on his current line of thinking. Hell, he'd have no blood left going to his brain if this kept up.

Diego heard his bedroom door open again, and Mia came into the office. "Hey, what do you think? Not the most professional outfit I've ever worn, but I think it'll work."

She was wearing her jeans, but this time, instead of a t-shirt, she was wearing one of his dress shirts. It was elaborately wrapped around her, with the sleeves tied in some strange approximation of a bow under her bust. The shirt left her shoulders bare, so she'd gotten one of his long-sleeved blazers and put it on, too.

All together, she looked pretty good. If he didn't know it, he never would have guessed her outfit was one cobbled together from a coworker's closet.

"Hey, that doesn't look half-bad," he admitted. "Who knew you were so creative, kitten?"

With Mia pressed and dressed, Diego took his turn in the shower. Fifteen minutes later, he was out of the shower and dressed. He came into the kitchen and made himself another cup of his fine brew.

"Just on time," he said, checking his watch. "Ready to go?"

Mia nodded, her hair still wet from her shower and the files in her arms. "When you are."

Diego gave her his sideways grin. "Then let's get percolating."

* * *

The walk to the courthouse was an unusually quiet one. Normally, the pair always had something to chat about: cases, old movies, books, something. But today…

Today felt different.

Diego exhaled. "Mia," he said, his tone serious. "If you aren't feeling up to this, I understand. This is quite the change of pace for a new lawyer."

Mia looked up startled. "Oh! No, I'm not thinking about that. Haha…" She flushed, her cheeks going a light pink. "…something else…" she mumbled.

Diego raised an eyebrow. "What's on your mind?" he asked. He kept his hands in his pockets.

"…Diego, listen." She sighed. "You know, I didn't mean to go all…friendship speech on you last night." She brushed her bangs out of her face. "I guess I was just worried and tired and I…I needed to just sort of get all my thoughts out."

"Hey, I get it." He grinned at her and closed his eyes. "I appreciate that someone's looking out for me. Just a reminder that I'm not alone is enough to make me feel better."

Mia smiled back. "I wasn't kidding," she told him. "You really are my best friend. I can always talk to you about any—well, almost anything," she quickly corrected.

"Oh?" Diego suddenly stopped, at the bottom of the steps to the courthouse. He watched the wind blow through Mia's hair as she suddenly went bright red. "Almost anything, huh? What is there that you can't talk to me about?"

"No—nothing!" she squeaked. "It's nothing!"

"Nothing, huh?" He stepped a little closer to her, so they were only an arm's length away. "Well, as long as we're talking about nothing…"

He shuffled closer. Mia looked up at him, her mouth open in shock.

"I've got a nothing, too." He was still grinning, feeling more and more like a jack-o-lantern. "But, since I would never forgive myself if I were murdered by a mobster before I got to tell you my nothing…"

Diego had been shifting closer to her as he talked, until he was only inches from her. She was still staring at him as he leaned down and kissed her.

It was soft and brief—as much as he might want to drag her back to his condo and strip their clothes off, now was not the time to express that—and as he pulled away, he realized he was gripping her shoulder tightly.

"Uh…" For the first time, Mia was speechless. He watched her face for a few minutes, feeling the plunge of rejection in his stomach. Not exactly the response he had been hoping for. Her mouth opened and closed, as if she couldn't quite figure out what had happened. "Um…"

"Heh. Eloquent." He kept the smile on his face and spun around towards the courthouse. "I just wanted you to know, kitten."

Diego went towards the courthouse. Mia was still behind him, trying to formulate words as he walked up the courthouse steps. He stopped when he reached the entrance.

Viola Cadaverini was standing there, waiting for him. She was looking as morbid as usual, with her black dress and sunken, sallow face. And standing next to her, looking more menacing that he remembered, was the large bodyguard from yesterday. He cracked his knuckles as Diego approached.

"Well, hi there," Diego said. "I don't suppose you're going to try to talk to me about my Lord and Savior?"

"Mr. Armando, I have a message." The big guy had the same accent that Zeke Cadaverini had. "Mr. Cadaverini has asked me to remind you of the conversation you had with him yesterday."

"Mmm. Sounds vaguely familiar." One of these days, he thought, his mouth was going to get him into trouble. Based on the big guy's frown, it would probably be today. "Who are you again?"

"Dom Cadaverini." The man put a big hand on Viola's shoulder. "I'm Zeke's little brother and Vi's uncle."

"Bruto's other son."

Dom laughed loudly. "Yep. My father wanted to make sure that nothing bad happened to my brother. So I came to stand by you in court."

"Sorry, amigo, but I've already got a co-counsel." Diego folded his arms. "And she looks way better in a pencil skirt than you do."

Dom folded his arms, too. "Listen, buddy," he said, but he was cut off by a loud throat clear.

Behind them, Mia had caught up. Her face was flushed, but she had gotten hold of her tongue again. She was walking up, determination on her face. Dom eyed her suspiciously.

"Listen, lady," he growled as he continued to walk towards him. "You better turn right around and go back to—"

"Excuse me, you're in my way."

Maybe it was because Dom wasn't used to being snapped at. Or maybe he didn't want to get into a fight with a woman half his size. Or maybe he sensed that if he remained in front of Mia, he'd have a Mia-sized hole in his torso. Either way, he seemed surprised when she walked up, took Diego's upper arm, and pushed right past him and into the courthouse.

"We'll talk about this crap later," Mia said firmly. "Right now, let's just get through this fucking trial."

"Uh...sure. Sounds great." As Diego glanced behind him, he caught a glimpse of Viola Cadaverini, staring at Mia with a strange look on her face. "Sounds...real great."

* * *

**First of all, Mia Fey is the kind of person who sees that pintrest thing about wearing a men's dress shirt as a strapless blouse and actually makes it work. Fight me.**

**Second, I'm not a fan of the short romances that animes are famous for. Like, dating someone for six months is not long enough to get married. So I have developed a headcannon that Diego and Mia actually got to know each other before they actually started seriously dating. It makes it all feel a little less...rushed.**  
**(Also, I have an obsession with best friends becoming lovers. My wonderful husband has been my wonderful bestie since we were literally 12 years old.)**


	4. Chapter 4

Still here! It's been a while, but real life decided to screw me up this week. So here's the new chapter! I hope you enjoy. I'm really enjoying writing it.

* * *

_Don't you know you never can win,_  
_Use your mentality, wake up to reality_

_~The Four Seasons, "I've Got You Under My Skin"_

* * *

Mia was a lot more forceful that she appeared, Diego thought as he was dragged through the courthouse. She had a firm grip on his upper arm and was steering him towards the defendant's lobby. Before they went inside, she let him go.

"Alright," she said. "I'm going to go see if Prosecutor Marshall is here yet. Go get settled."

"…Mia…listen, about that kiss..."

"Stop." She held up her hand. "I already told you, we'll talk about it later. For now, table that discussion."

He started to say something else, but she was gone, quickly walking away. He exhaled his lost words and headed into the lobby.

Zeke wasn't there yet, so he sat down on the familiar couch and started to sort through his files. A few minutes later, Mia returned, her sneakers squeaking on the marble floor and a frown on her face.

"Well," she said miserably, "I think I figured out why court was postponed."

Diego glanced up as she collapsed into the couch next to him. "Why?"

"Neil Marshall is in the prosecutor's lobby freaking out." Mia crossed her legs. "Jake's in there trying to calm him down, but if I had to guess? Our prosecutor probably got his own phone call yesterday."

"Geez." Despite the rivalry that he was building up, Diego still felt bad for Marshall. "I hope he's doing alright."

"Why'd they put the youngest prosecutor in the office on this case?" Mia snarled. "It would've made more sense if they had von Karma do it…I doubt even Bruto Cavaderini scares that guy."

"Isn't it obvious?" Diego said wryly. "None of the veteran prosecutors wanted to get involved in this mess, for the same reason Grossberg passed it off to me. Never get in bed with the mob. That's one of my rules."

"Oh, really?" she asked wryly. "When did that become one of your rules?"

"At approximately…5 pm last night. New rules are still rules."

Mia opened her mouth to say something snarky back, but she was cut off. The door to the lobby opened and a familiar person slunk in, the spurs on his cowboy boots spinning with each step.

Jake Marshall was the rougher, slightly taller version of his younger brother. His long hair swayed as he walked towards them. "Howdy, miss." He tipped his hat at Mia and turned to Diego with a serious look.

"Hola, amigo." Diego put one of his legs on his knee and leaned back. "How's your brother doing?"

Jake sat down. "Not great, pardner," he said. His drawl was more pronounced than his younger brother's. "I'll tell you now, Neil is scared. He's tryin' to get outta this whole mess."

"Is he now?" Diego sighed. "Me, too, if I'm being honest."

"The head honcho of that mafia threatened him. Said he better go on and let your client off. Neil told him no way, no how, of course."

"I mean, Neil could just…not call his witness," Mia suggested. Both Jake and Diego laughed darkly. "What's so funny?"

"Pardon me for speakin' outta turn, ma'am, but…that's foal talk." Jake crossed his arms and nodded to Deigo. "Ya'll wanna handle this?"

"Like it or not, Neil Marshall still has a job to do," Diego explained. "Losing a case is one thing; throwing a case is another. He'd probably be disbarred."

"Catchin' the bad guys is all Neil's ever wanted to do with his life," Jake added. "He worked real hard to get to this point. He ain't gonna give it up now."

Mia sighed. "I get it. I just don't like it."

"No one does," Diego replied. He glanced at his watch. "Look, I don't know how this is going to shake out. I really wish I had any sort of advice for your brother, but I don't even have any advice for me right now."

Jake nodded and stood up. "Didn't think you would. I gotta get back to the stationhouse, but do me a favor, eh, Armando?" He tipped his hat down. "Don't fuck this up. I know you're a good lawyer, but…well, so's Neil."

"The truth will out, Marshall." Diego nodded as Jake started for the door. Behind them, the bailiff came in to call for court. "The truth will out."

* * *

Diego had to give the man credit: if Neil Marshall had just been panicking in the lobby ten minutes ago, he was hiding it well now. He was as confident as ever, standing at the prosecutor's table. He tapped his fingers on the wood as Diego, Mia, and Zeke entered the courtroom.

"Well, well," Marshall called across the courtroom, "Looks like you brought your good luck charm with you, Armando." He winked at Mia from beneath his hat. "Howdy, Miss Fey."

"Hi, Neil," she said with a wave. "You're pretty charming yourself."

"Don't flirt with him," Diego grumbled. Flirt with me, his mind added desperately.

"Gonna save Armando's sorry ass today?" Marshall teased. "He could use it."

"Ha! Nice try, Mr. Marshall, but you're the one who'll need saving." Mia folded her arms and gave her bangs a confident flip. "We've got some new evidence to present, so strap in."

Marshall smiled at her. "Will do, little lady. I'm ready for a wild ride."

Before the conversation could continue, the judge entered the room. He sat down with his usual pomp and circumstance, his robes billowing around the bench. He banged the gavel and announced the second day of trial. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Your turn, Mr. Marshall. Please submit the ballistics report to the court."

Marshall nodded and adjusted his vest. "Right, Your Honor. Now, I have to thank my coffee-drinking pal over there. Turns out you were right, partner." He tossed a folder onto the defense table. "The gun found at the scene wasn't the murder weapon."

The crowd murmured as Diego picked up the file. "So we don't have a murder weapon, then?"

Marshall put a hand on his hip. "Not yet. I've got a few folks out looking around for it in the park, but we can keep this rodeo goin'. I'm ready to call my witness."

Deigo rubbed his chin, not sure if he wanted to object. Finally, he said, "Alright, then, Mr. Marshall. The defense has no objections."

"Then let's get this show on the road." Marshall flicked the brim of his hat as he looked up at the judge. "The prosecution calls Officer Kyle Idle to the stand."

The bailiff led the witness in. As he walked to the stand, Deigo noticed that Kyle Idle was the most clean-cut looking person he had ever seen. He felt his stomach drop as the officer was sworn in. Next to Zeke, Idle looked like a choir boy: close cut blonde hair, pressed police uniform, straight posture.

"Your name and occupation, fellah," Marshall drawled.

"My name is Officer Kyle Idle. I'm a patrol officer for the Los Angeles Police Department." Even Idle's voice was innocent; he sounded young and pleasant. Diego's grip tightened on the coffee mug, while Mia frowned next to him. As much as they may lie to themselves, claiming that justice is blind, they both know that a good-looking witness is just as good as an honest one.

"Please testify about what you witnessed," the judge requested.

Idle cleared his throat. "I was in Brookville Park at approximately 11:30 am on the day of the incident. I had requested the day off and was taking a walk for leisure. At approximately 12 pm, I heard loud voices that appeared to be arguing. When I went to investigate, I saw two men. One was my superior officer, Joe Holland. The other was the defendant, identified as Zeke Cadaverini."

Diego heard a scratching noise beside him and glanced over. Mia was taking notes, her hand moving so quickly it blurred across the page.

"Writing a novel there?" he whispered. Mia elbowed him in the side.

"Someone has to take this seriously," she muttered. Idle's testimony continued as she rapidly wrote his words down.

"I watched the two argue for a few moments. After that, Cadaverini assaulted Officer Holland and took his service weapon off his belt. I heard Cadaverini shout at him and shoot the gun." Idle swallowed nervously. "He shot Officer Holland in the head and threw the gun to the side. After that, he ran off. I called in the murder at 12:45 and requested backup. After Officer Randall joined me, we arrested Cadaverini. The time was 1:30 pm."

The judge nodded. "Very well. Your cross examination, Mr. Armando?"

Diego glanced over at Mia's notes. "Find anything interesting, kitten?"

Mia glared at her notes. "Not enough. At least, not yet."

"Then we'll press him on the timing," Diego said, "and see what shakes out."

With that, he walked from behind the defense table and straightened his waistcoat. "A point of clarification, Officer Idle. Have you ever met Mr. Cadaverini before the day of the murder?"

"No. We…don't exactly run in the same circles." Idle blinked and began to twist his fingers together. "But as a police officer, I'm familiar with the entire Cadaverini family. I've seen pictures of him before."

"Hmm…" Diego rubbed his chin. "Officer Idle, you said that you heard the defendant and the victim arguing. What were they arguing about?"

"Um, well," Idle said awkwardly, "I didn't hear all of it, but I know that Cadaverini was shouting about his father. He kept saying he wouldn't go to prison and he was protecting his family."

"You're a rotten liar!" Zeke suddenly burst out, causing the crowd to murmur with excitement. The judge banged his gavel. "Joey and I were pals! We never argued!"

"Zeke, shut up!" Diego grit his teeth as the judge shouted for order.

"Mr. Cadaverini," he said sternly, "you will refrain from outbursts like that in this courtroom!"

After the crowd calmed down, Diego continued. "So, you heard them arguing, then saw Officer Holland get shot. Let's address the elephant in the room, shall we?" Diego tapped his watch. "Timing. Holland was killed at 12:10, according to your testimony. However, you didn't call for backup until 12:45. Why the gap?"

Idle straightened his back. "My cell phone had died. I had to go back to my apartment and charge it before I could call."

At this, Marshall held up his hand. "Quick thing, Your Honor." He gestured to the screens that hung above the witness stand. "Here's a map of the city. Officer Idle lives here, on West 33rd Street. Brookville Park is about 20 minutes away on foot. By the time he went back to his camp and his phone was juiced up, 35 minutes had passed." Marshall cocked his fingers. "Your turn, Mr. Armando."

"Hmm. So, instead of going into, say," Diego replied, "one of the…one-two-three, four convenience stores you passed on the way, or even finding a pay phone to use, you ran all the way home." Diego crossed his arms. "Pardon me, Mr. Idle, but I find that hard to believe."

"I was in a state of shock," Idle blurted out. He was now fidgeting with the buttons on his jacket. "I…I was really close to Joey…I couldn't believe he was dead…"

"Please," Marshall scoffed. "If you had just seen your pal murdered, you probably wouldn't be thinkin' straight, either."

The judge nodded. "That's understandable. Please continue."

Diego took a gulp of his coffee. "Alright, then, Mr. Idle. Let's talk specifically about the murder. So, you saw the two men arguing and then you saw them fight, correct?"

"It wasn't really a fight," Idle elaborated. "More like…Cadaverini shoved Joey, and then grabbed his gun. Then Joey tried to run away and Cadaverini shot him."

Diego was distracted by movement behind him. Mia had left the defense's table and was heading for the exit to the courtroom. He blinked as she quickly left, her sneakers squeaking in rapid succession on the floor. "Um…sorry, I'm a bit confused."

"About what?"

Diego shook his thoughts of Mia out of his head and turned back to Idle. "Well, the ballistics report states that Holland's weapon was not the murder weapon. If that's the case, then…well, that's quite the contradiction. Can you explain it?"

Idle hesitated. "Well…I can only say what I saw. I saw Cadaverini grab Holland's gun. I saw him shoot Holland." His fidgeting resumed. "Maybe he just…used a different gun. I'm not sure."

"If that's the case," Diego argued, "then why would he even go for Holland's gun in the first place?"

"Objection!" Marshall pointed at Diego. "Mr. Armando, it's not Officer Idle's job to speculate about the whys of a murderer. Perhaps Cadaverini didn't like Holland's gun. Perhaps the gun jammed. It doesn't matter, does it? He saw the murder."

The judge nodded. "I agree, Mr. Marshall. The witness has not given me a reason to doubt his testimony."

Diego narrowed his eyes. "Let's keep going. After that, you saw my client throw the gun away?"

"Yes." Idle exhaled slowly. "Cadaverini tossed the gun aside, about five feet away from the body. After that, he just sort of…walked off. I didn't want to follow him without backup, just in case he was still armed."

"Did he have any blood on him?" Diego questioned.

Idle shook his head. "No. The way that he shot Holland…all the blood went away from him. I didn't see any on Cadaverini's clothes."

Diego gripped his coffee mug tighter. This wasn't looking good, and he didn't even have Mia here to make him feel better. "Ugh…did you happen to see another gun anywhere? On the defendant or in the area?"

"No, no," Idle said. He was shaking his head. "But that doesn't mean there wasn't one!"

"I just find it odd," Diego said, seizing onto the gun. Idle was clearly not comfortable with talking about it. "You really didn't see any other gun?"

"Objection," Marshall said. "Asked and answered."

"Sustained. Move onto your next question, Mr. Armando."

"Excuse me," Idle said suddenly. "Uh, Your Honor, I'm not feeling so well. Can I…can I get a drink?"

Idle was twisting and squeezing his own fingers. The judge blinked down at him.

"Er…are you quite sure? I don't think Mr. Armando is finished with his cross examination…"

"Really." Idle's face did, in fact, look pale. He bit his lip. "I…I really need to lie down!"

The judge nodded. "Very well." He banged his gavel. "The court will take a half hour recess."

* * *

Diego couldn't complain about the recess; after all, he didn't have any idea what to do now. Idle's testimony stood firm, despite the minor contradictions Diego had picked out.

He and Zeke went back to the defense lobby. Zeke's daughter and brother met him there. Diego tried hard not to make eye contact with Dom as they huddled in the corner.

Diego sat down on the couch and tilted his head back, eyes closed. He hoped when he opened them he'd be back in bed, cozy and warm and notlosing a court battle for a mob bosses' son.

"I'm screwed," he mumbled. "I'm absolutely fucked."

He sighed. He couldn't give up now. When things looked their worst, good lawyers kept smiling. As he exhaled, he was vaguely aware that he should be looking for his co-counsel.

He reached for his phone to call Mia. As if by magic, the door suddenly opened and she appeared. Her hair was a bit disheveled and she was carrying several sheets of loose paper in her arms.

"Sorry to dip like that," she panted. "But while he was talking, I remembered something."

"What is it, kitten?" He grinned at her. "Going to read me my last rites?"

She was breathing heavily, so he moved over to make room on the couch. He purposely did not look at her chest, which was rising and falling, stretching the limit of his woven dress shirt.

"Whoo…I ran all the way to the office and back. Here." She handed him the papers. "The phone records for Joseph Holland, Kyle Idle, and Zeke Cadaverini."

Diego stared at the papers in grateful reverence. "I'm going to start calling you Superwoman," he said. "I completely forgot about cell phone logs."

"Stick with kitten," she advised. "I also cross referenced the numbers. Zeke is in the clear: he's never called Holland or Idle. His calls are almost exclusively a pizza place, the bowling alley he owns, and the number of his wife." She smiled triumphantly. "He's called extended family, like Bruto, but the calls are maybe once a month. Typical for a father and son who aren't too close."

"That's great, but it doesn't prove anything," Diego said. "Anything else?"

"Actually," Mia mused, "yes. Idle's call log."

"What about it?" Diego felt his hopes rise. "Please tell me there's a contradiction."

"Sorry," Mia replied. "The log supports his story. He called into the precinct at 12:45, from a cell tower near his own apartment."

Diego exhaled. "Damn."

"But there is something." She ran her finger down the list. "I was able to identify almost all the numbers. He calls his mom a lot, the precinct, you know. Nothing strange, except for this one." She let her finger rest on a number. "He calls and receives calls from this number almost every night. The calls last a long time, too, sometimes over an hour. And they all happen later at night."

"A girlfriend," Diego said automatically. "Or boyfriend, I suppose. He calls to say goodnight."

"Exactly what I thought," Mia said. "Unfortunately, without a number to cross reference it to, I have no idea who it is. The number isn't in the criminal database, and it's not on any of the other two call logs."

"It could be anyone." Diego sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter. A nightly booty call wouldn't change his testimony."

"I don't know." Mia furrowed her brow. "I mean, there are a lot of…little inconsistencies in there. They're just really nagging at me. If we tug on one hard enough, his whole story is bound to unravel."

"Little inconsistencies," Diego repeated. He sat back on the couch. "Well, there's the most obvious one. Idle is adamant that he saw Zeke throw the gun after shooting Holland. But the gun that was thrown away from the body wasn't the one that killed Holland."

"Which is an entirely different issue." Mia crossed her legs and sat back beside him. "Where is the murder weapon, if that gun isn't it?"

Diego gave a dry laugh. "Probably at the bottom of the bay, if I had to guess. It's a pretty common weapon. Hell, all the cops in the city have…one…"

His eyes suddenly glazed over, lost in thought. Mia raised an eyebrow. "Diego? What's up?"

"Let me see the autopsy report," he said abruptly. "And the ballistics report."

Mia pulled them out of the ever-growing pile of files. "Here."

He skimmed over the pages, his consternation deepening with each word. Finally, Mia blurted out, "What is going on?!"

"I'll tell you what's going on." Diego gripped the file tighter. "According to the ballistics report, the murder weapon wasn't Holland's gun, but it was the same type of gun. The same gun that's given to all LAPD officers." He pulled out a photo of the crime scene. "Maybe it's an odd coincidence, but we happen to have another LAPD officer in this case."

Mia's eyes widened. "…Idle?" she said quietly. "You think Idle killed him?"

"Has to be." Diego shut the files and handed them back to her. "Why else would he testify to this? He's covering up his own crime."

"Well, the only way to find out is to get back into court and get him to crack. Is there anything else you need?" she asked.

Diego sighed. "Well…a bullet proof vest, if I want to get home tonight without being killed by a mob boss."

"Eh, a vest won't help," Zeke said, crashing down beside him. "My brother does all the dirty work now. He'll probably use that handy little switchblade he keeps in his pocket. He likes to go for the neck."

"Thanks, Zeke, your comment was unwanted and not especially helpful." Diego groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Maybe just skip the vest and go for a coffin. I'm thinking either a nice classic mahogany one, or going full Snow White and just being preserved in glass for eternity. What do you think?"

"Oh, I was going to just have you dumped in the gutter behind the office," Mia told him. "Should I rethink my plans?"

The bailiff called for the defense. To Diego's surprise and disappointment, Mia took a step away.

"Leaving me again, kitten?" he said, feigning distress. He dramatically put his hand to his head. "How will I go on?"

"Stop being such a big baby," Mia teased. "I'm just going to grab one last thing. It's a long shot, but…" She glanced over at the bailiff and lowered her voice. "If you really think that Idle killed him, we need to find proof he had the murder weapon. I'll bet I can get something if I go down and check out his desk at the precinct."

Diego raised an eyebrow. "Do you really think that the cops will let a defense attorney go rooting around in his desk?"

"Not with that attitude." Mia gave him a dazzling grin, and for just a moment, he lost his breath. "But I have my ways of getting information. Knock 'em dead in there."

"Yeah," he said softly as she walked away. "You too."


	5. Chapter 5

**We're getting closer to the end of the case! Maybe, like, 3 more chapters? I don't know. ****This story started out as _one chapter_. Now I keep adding more and more shit to it. Because I love it.**

* * *

_With your red dress on,  
Mmm, you look so fine,  
Move it nice and easy,  
Girl, you make me lose my mind_

_~Frankie Valli, "Sherry"_

* * *

The police precinct was only about 10 minutes away by foot, though Mia managed to run it in about 5. She wanted to find something, _anything_, that counted as evidence. If Diego's hunch was right—and, goddamn him, it usually was—then there had to be some kind of evidence that Idle was a killer.

Mia ducked her head as she went into the precinct. Luckily, it was as busy as always, so no one noticed her walking in and sneaking by the detectives' desks.

Well, almost no one, that is.

"What are you doing here?" Lana hissed, grabbing her arm. "If you're trying to get evidence for Armando's trial, you're out of luck. There's no way I can let you go digging around in our files.

"I want to see Kyle Idle's desk," Mia replied. "That's all. No files, no evidence. Just…I want to check his desk."

Lana looked torn. "I can't help you," she said. "God, do you have idea what Gant would say if he saw me helping you find dirt on another officer?"

"Oh, who cares what Gant says?" Mia snapped back. "This is a man's life on the line, Lana. I thought you became a police officer to help innocent people?"

"If you think that the Cadaverini family is innocent, Mia, I have a few corpses down in the morgue that might disagree with you!" She whipped her head around, then leaned closer, her voice going into a whisper. "Did you hear about how they threatened Neil?"

"And did _you_ hear about how Zeke didn't make that phone call?" Mia whispered furiously. "Just because Bruto Cadaverini might kill people doesn't mean Zeke does. Or are you saying that a child should be punished for their parents' decisions?"

Lana made a noise in her throat. "Look, I don't have time for this. What exactly are you looking for?"

"Idle's gun," Mia said immediately. "If we can find it, we can test it. If it's a match, then Idle killed Holland!"

Lana's face went stony. "His gun?"

Mia nodded. "He can't have it on him in the courtroom. I figured it's probably somewhere in his desk."

Lana frowned, but didn't say anything. She finally gestured to a door off to the side. "The patrolmen desk are down there," she told Mia. "The code is 3439. Just…go through it and don't do anything stupid."

Mia sighed in relief. "Lana, you're a lifesaver. I owe you one."

"Wait a minute." Lana reached for Mia's makeshift blouse. She gently tugged it down so that her friend's cleavage was more noticeable. Mia blushed and smacked her hands away.

"Hey!"

"I'm helping you." Lana nodded towards the door. "Look pretty and act stupid. Those patrolmen fall for it every time."

Mia smiled. "Know from experience?"

"Hey, I do work here."

* * *

Back in the courtroom, Diego was struggling.

He wasn't the only one: Kyle Idle, according to Marshall, was currently vomiting in the prosecution lobby.

"Your Honor, he is beggin' me not to end court today," Marshall said. "Tells me that justice need to be served, and I agree."

"Hmm…well, I certainly don't like dragging this trial on any longer than needed…"

"Your Honor!" Diego shouted, slamming his hands on the table. "That's outrageous! I didn't get to finish cross examining the witness!"

The judged sighed. "Indeed, you're correct, Mr. Armando. I can't very well declare a verdict with this hanging in the air." He paused to think. "Are there any other witnesses? Perhaps we can give Mr. Idle some time to recover."

Marshall rubbed his chin. "Well, we could get some of the scientific nonsense outta the way. Our experts usually testify after the key witness, but…I suppose it doesn't matter much."

The judge slammed the gavel down. "Very well. Call your witness, then."

Marshall nodded. "The prosecution calls Medical Examiner Opal McNair to the stand."

Diego sighed. He might not be able to do much for cross examining the forensics team—after all, they usually just gave cold, hard facts—but at least he had bought some time. Time for Mia to dig something up, time for him to think up some crazy scheme, time for Idle to sweat and panic.

Time was all he needed.

* * *

Mia followed the hallway back to the patrolmen's office. The holding cell was in there, too, where they dropped off people they arrested before taking them in for questioning. It was loud and raucous, with people shouting and banging on the bars, officers shoving suspects into the cells, paperwork being tossed into boxes and stacks.

Luckily for Mia, this meant that she could sneak around easily. Ignoring the reflex to fold her arms over her chest, she found her way to the desks and started scanning them. Her eyes fell upon one with the name "Officer Idle," hand written on a piece of paper and folded over into a makeshift nameplate.

It was so pathetic, she almost felt bad for him.

She hesitated, then quickly sat down at the desk. It was relatively clean with only a laptop and some blank papers on it. Idle, it appeared, hadn't been there long enough to earn his own brown-paneled name plate, nor had he had time to decorate his desk with pictures of family or knickknacks, unlike those around him.

With a start, Mia noticed that Idle's desk was right next to Joey's. The nameplate was old and faded, but she could still make out the name "Officer Joseph Holland" on it. He had a few pictures of his wife and children, along with a nice shot of some of the officers, all dressed up in formal attire.

Mia hesitated, then reached over and grabbed the notepad that was on Joey's desk. It was covered in dark scribbles, and though she didn't have time to read it, it certainly couldn't hurt.

Turning her attention back to Idle's desk, Mia started to open the drawers. Nothing in most of them, except for an officer's cap and a stack of random files. Mia picked them up and scanned over them.

They were old cases, she noted, from at least ten or twenty years ago. Murders, robberies, car-jackings. All unsolved cold cases. All with the suspect being a member of the Cadaverini family.

"Hey! What'cha doin' in Kyle's desk?!"

Mia quickly turned to the voice. A patrolman, a grizzled man with a beard, was storming over to her. She tossed the files into the drawer and stood up. The officer started out angry, but his face got a dazed look when he caught full sight of her.

"Uh…didn't mean to yell, miss. You just…you can't be diggin' around in folk's desks!"

Hell's bells, Lana had been right. Mia quickly put a hand over her fake-shocked mouth and acted surprised.

"Oh, I'm sorry, mister! I didn't know that!"

He gave her a broad smile. "Ah, don't worry about it. Say, you wouldn't happen to be, uh, Kyle's girlfriend, would you?"

Well, that was convenient. "Oh! Has he been telling you boys naughty things about me?" Mia pretended to pout. "And here I thought he was so gentleman-like."

"Ahaha!" A few more officers were wondering by, gathering around to see her. "Naw, he doesn't tell any of us anything! Just told us he had a girl he liked to talk to at night."

"Man," one of the younger officers said forlornly, "if I had a girl as cute as you, I'd never shut up about her!"

"Aw, you boys are making me blush." Mia rubbed the back of her neck. "You're so nice!"

"Are you looking for Kyle?" Another officer asked. "He's not here right now, but you can stick around and wait here!"

_Oh, God no._ Mia's brain went into overdrive. "Uh…actually, Kyle sent me down here from the courthouse to find something in his desk!" She put on a Barbie-doll level smile. "But I don't think it's here…"

"We'll help you out!" The first officer boasted. "What is it Kyle's lookin' for?"

"Oh, he was looking for something about, um…a fire…and his arm?" Mia kept the Barbie smile on her face as she scratched her head. "I knew I should have written it down…"

"Must mean his firearm," one of the officers said eagerly. "That's his gun, sweetie."

Mia almost made a face. It was one thing for Diego, a friend and colleague, to give her cutesy nicknames like kitten; he knew her well enough to know, and enjoy, how much it annoyed her. But coming from a bunch of macho police officers trying to impress her, it just felt creepy.

"Oh?" Mia frowned and squinted down into the desk. "But…I don't see a gun?"

"Musta meant his report," another officer stated. He nodded at Mia. "Kyle lost his gun a few days ago, see, and he hasn't been able to find it. He probably needed you to grab his lost firearm report." The man lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Chief was real mad, you know. Filed a formal complaint and everything."

"Oh, that's terrible!" Mia clasped her hands over her mouth. "I better get him that stuff before he gets in more trouble! Where is it?"

"Copy right here, miss." A hand reached out with the paper in its clutches and shoved it into her face. "And, uh, if Kyle ever messes up too bad…"

"Ack, Gene, like she'd ever even give you the time of day!" Mia took the report and tucked it under her arm with Joey's notepad, as the officers around her began to bicker. "She needs a guy who _doesn't_ have a receding hairline."

"Yeah, or an ex-wife!"

Mia slowly slunk away as their arguments became more heated, the report in her hand. She quickly ducked back down the hallway and through the doors. As she shut the doors behind her and made for the exit, she caught Lana's eye and gave her a small wave of thanks.

Once she was out of the precinct and away from prying eyes, Mia looked over the report. It was dated for the day after the murder, and detailed Idle's loss of firearm. According to the report, Idle had lost his gun on a night shift. He'd gotten into an altercation with a suspect, who grabbed the gun and ran off with it.

This was it, she realized. Idle must have gotten rid of his gun and had to report it missing. Her mind flashed back to his files on the Cadaverini family, but she couldn't quite connect the dots.

Had he planned to frame Zeke, she wondered? Why? And, more importantly, why had he killed Joey, of all people?

She looked over the notepad she had collected, as well. It was mostly meaningless notes from various cases, but there was one particular part that was circled.

_Tell V about K. Maybe Z?_

This meant absolutely nothing to her, but as she tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, she could only think of one thing.

Z must be Zeke. K must be Kyle. That probably meant that V was…

Viola. It had to be.

Mia exhaled softly and geared up to run back to the courthouse.

This was getting a lot more complicated than she expected.

* * *

"What do you mean, I'm not allowed in?!"

Mia threw her hands up, while the bailiff looked both apologetic and a little scared. "Sorry, ma'am, but the judge was very clear. He doesn't want any interruptions. You'll have to wait until he calls a recess."

Mia sighed, her shoulders dropping. She suddenly became aware that the bailiff's eyes kept flickering below her neckline. She hadn't pulled up her shirt.

Unfair? Maybe.

Did she care? Not really.

Inhaling and stepping a little closer to him, Mia said, "Alright, well…can you do me a favor? Please?"

His eyes widened. "Uh…sure."

"The defense needs this." She handed him the paper and exhaled. "Please, make sure Mr. Armando gets this as soon as possible."

The bailiff nodded. "Of course, ma'am. I'll give it to him now. You can head on up to the observer's seats, if you want."

"Thanks." Mia watched him go into the courtroom and headed for the observer's seats. When he was gone, she quickly hiked her shirt back up, covering her cleavage again.

It might come in handy sometimes, but right now, she didn't need Diego to be distracted.

* * *

The bailiff came in towards the tail end of the medical examiner's testimony and handed Diego a single piece of paper. In his peripheral vision, he saw Mia sit down next to Viola and whisper something to her. He scanned over the paper and smiled.

Kitten came to his rescue again.

"Alright, Mr. Marshall," the judge said. "Is Mr. Idle ready to continue his testimony?"

"He seems to be in better shape than he was a bit ago," Marshall replied. "Still a bit green, though."

"Green or not," Diego insisted, "it's time to wander out here and taste the dark, bitter truth. Your Honor, I request that Officer Idle either testify now, or we adjourn until tomorrow."

"I agree, Mr. Armando. Bailiff, please bring Officer Idle into the courtroom."

Idle returned to the witness stand, his face pale and looking like he wanted to the floor to swallow him. Diego felt a bit of triumph flare in his chest; Idle no longer looked like the boyish newbie police officer. Instead, he looked scared and upset, like a child caught in a lie.

Diego stepped out from the defense table. "Okay, Mr. Idle. Let's continue our cross examination, shall we?" He pulled up a photo of the crime scene on the screens. "So, you claim to have seen my client shoot Officer Holland. Remind me, where were you standing when this occurred?"

Idle glanced up. "…Right past the gun there. By the telephone pole on the right."

Diego took a drink. "Ah…bitter. Now, Mr. Idle, you were far from hidden. Did my client see you at all? I would think he'd notice a police officer watching him commit murder."

"No, I don't think so." Idle's eyes went to Zeke. "He was probably distracted. Plus, I wasn't in uniform. I requested off that day, so I was in plain clothes."

"Right." This kid had an answer for everything, didn't he? Diego frowned. "According to you, there was no other gun besides Officer Holland's service weapon at the scene. Correct?"

"Yes." Idle's testimony was suddenly curt and short. Diego nodded.

"But the weapon found near the body, Holland's pistol, was not the same gun that shot him. According to the ballistics report, it was the same caliber, make, and model. In fact, the gun that killed him was the standard service weapon given to all LAPD officers." Diego looked up and swirled his mug around. "…You have one of those, don't you, Mr. Idle?"

"Of course I do. I'm a police officer." Idle sighed wearily. "No offense, Mr. Armando, but if that's all you dragged me back out here to say, you're wasting your time."

Diego's grin widened. "Ha! You know, Mr. Idle, I've been a lawyer for a pretty decent chunk of time. Almost ten years. And I've noticed something in those years as a lawyer. Care to indulge me?"

"…Fine," Idle said stiffly. "That's fine."

"I'm sure you've seen this phenomenon, being an officer." Diego folded his arms. "People tend to become a lot less congenial when they've been caught in a lie."

"Objection!" Marshall shouted. "Mr. Armando, are you implying the witness is lying?"

Diego laughed. "No, no, no! I'm not implying anything. I'm outright stating it." He took a drink of his coffee. "Mr. Idle, you've told us a great story today. A story about a mob boss' son, shooting the brave neighborhood policeman to protect his criminal family. But your story has a lot of things that don't add up. A lot of inconsistencies, a lot of loose threads. And, quite frankly, a lot of stuff that seems to be a lie bolder than my favorite blend."

"Objection! Your Honor, is the defense going to actually ask a goddamned question?!" Marshall shook his head. "All you're doing is trying to discredit the witness!"

The judge nodded. "Mr. Armando! That behavior is unacceptable in my courtroom. Ask a question or end your cross examination!"

Diego chuckled. "Alright, Your Honor. I'll be glad to oblige. I just wanted to give Mr. Idle the opportunity to tell us the truth of his own volition."

"Excuse me? I have told the truth." Idle folded his arms. "You're the one who's trying to make up a story."

Diego shrugged. "Very well. If that's the case, I have a question for you." Diego pointed to him. "Mr. Idle, where is your service pistol right now?"

The courtroom went silent. Diego could feel Mia's eyes on him as he walked forward a few feet. "Mr. Idle? Care to answer the question?"

"…I lost it," he finally said. "Are you happy? I lost the damned gun."

"You lost it?" Diego waved the sheet of paper in the air. "According to this report, you lost it the night after Officer Holland was killed. That's quite a coincidence, isn't it?"

"I lost my gun," Idle said testily, "while I was pursuing a rapist. And if you have any evidence to the contrary, I'd love to hear it."

Diego made a noise in his throat. No, he didn't have any evidence. He grit his teeth as Idle smirked.

"See? Your Honor, this is a waste of time." Idle turned to the bench. "I don't need to be here."

"Officer Idle, I would like to make myself clear." The judge leaned forward. "In this courtroom, I decide what is a waste of time. You sit and wait until I decide." He frowned thoughtfully. "With that said…Mr. Armando, if you don't have any questions that lead to new information, then I will allow the witness to go."

"Well?" Marshall asked. "Got a good question, Armando?"

Diego clenched his fists. He'd really expected Idle to crack and let something slip. His mind raced as he tried to think of a question that would keep Idle at the witness stand, or get him to reveal something, or even just make him look like a liar.

Suddenly, something smacked him in the back of his head. It fell to the floor and he glanced down.

The thing that had hit him, it turned out, was a crumpled up piece of paper. He unfolded it and read it. In neat handwriting was a single word:

_Why?_

Why, he thought. Why what? Why had he taken this case? Why was he even trying to win this instead of pleading out? Why was Grossberg such a—

_Why was Idle in the park that day?_

The question popped into his head, oddly enough in Mia's voice. _Turn your thinking around._

If he assumed that Idle had killed Holland, then there had to have been a reason he was in the very same park. If he could find that reason, he could tear a hole in Idle's testimony. Maybe.

"Officer Idle," Diego began slowly, "you said you live on West 33rd Street, correct?"

"Yes," Idle replied. "I was going for a walk when the incident occurred."

"Then why were you at a park almost…ten blocks away?" Diego clicked a button and the map that showed the route from Idle's apartment to Brookville Park. "I mean, Brookville Park is quite a ways away from your apartment building. And there's a park, Westfield, that is…well, it's not even two blocks away from your apartment. So, why did your walk take you so far?"

Idle blinked, taken aback. "Uh, well, I always patrol around that area."

Diego gently swirled his coffee cup. "But…you testified you weren't on duty. You had the day off. No…you _requested _the day off." He took a sip. "Why was that?"

"Objection!" Marshall slammed his hand down on the table. "This has nothing to do with the case."

"Doesn't it?" Diego asked, baring his teeth in a smile. "The witness brought it up. He specifically said that he wasn't on duty that day. He was dressed down, not in uniform, which is why the defendant didn't notice him." Diego shrugged. "Stands to reason that he would have requested off for some purpose. So what was that purpose?"

Idle fidgeted nervously. "W—well, I mean, I just needed a day off. It's a stressful job!"

"But you requested this day off specifically. In fact…it's a little odd, I'd say, to request a random Wednesday off and go to a park that's twenty minutes away." Diego tilted his head and smirked. "Tell me, Mr. Idle, what was so special about that park on that day?"

"…" Idle looked down and mumbled something.

"Sorry?" Diego said pleasantly. "Could you speak up a bit?"

"…I was…meeting my girlfriend."

For a moment, the court room buzzed with murmurs. Idles' face went red as the judge banged his gavel and Mia looked triumphant. Diego rubbed his chin, trying to see what she so clearly did.

"Order, order!"

"What a load of cowpie!" Marshall pointed his finger at Diego. "So he was meeting his girlfriend! The park's a great place to meet with the little lady and have a hog-killin' time."

Diego shook his head at the prosecutor. "Please, Mr. Marshall. You expect us to believe that he just happened to stumble onto a murder on his requested day off? Sounds suspect."

"Suspect though it is," the judge said, "the witness is not on trial here. Can you establish relevance to the case at hand, Mr. Armando?"

"Gladly." Diego picked up the files that Mia had brought him. "Tell me, Mr. Idle. Why are you so embarrassed about your girlfriend?"

"…Uh…" Idle blinked and then went back to fidgeting. "Well…it's…"

"What's so embarrassing about your girlfriend that you can't tell us about her?"

"I—it's not embarrassing! It's just…" Idle's fidgeting got even worse. "Urgh…"

"Where are you going with this, Mr. Armando?" the judge demanded. "Who is the witnesses' girlfriend and why does it matter?"

"If Mr. Idle was meeting his girlfriend," Diego countered, "it's possible she also saw the murder. We could have another witness."

"Objection!" Marshall slammed his hands on the table. "No one else came forward and Officer Idle says he's the only one who saw it. You're just making up lies now, cowpoke."

"Objection to you, sir!" Diego slammed his own hands on the table. "Just because she didn't come forward, doesn't mean she didn't see anything! In the interest of justice, Your Honor, I ask that the defendant give us this woman's name."

"No."

Diego, Marshall, and the judge all turned to the witness stand. Idle was shaking his head, his voice suddenly hard. "No, I won't do that. She didn't see anything."

"Officer Idle," the judge said, "you must understand, if I compel you to give us this woman's name, you must do so. Otherwise, you could be held in contempt of court."

"Then…then that's what you'll do." Idle nodded firmly. "Because I won't give you her name."

Silence fell over the courtroom and Diego felt his stomach tighten. This was it, he realized. Idle was hiding something. Contempt of court or not, that something would never be found out unless Diego pushed to find it.

He looked up, desperate for at least a familiar face, into the observer's stands. His eyes scanned over Mia, who was mirroring his anxious feeling. He was about to sigh and move on, try another tactic to get to the truth, when his eye caught something else.

Viola was staring down at the courtroom. However, she wasn't looking at her father. She was looking at the witness stand, her face a mixture of sadness and apprehension.

And suddenly, a lot of pieces clicked into place in Diego's mind.

"Your Honor," he said suddenly. "I have an idea. Let's give this girlfriend a call."

"What did you say, Mr. Armando? Give her a call?" The judge blinked. "Er…"

"On her cell phone," he elaborated. Diego pulled out his own cell phone and picked up the call log with his other hand. "We have Officer Idle's phone records. I have the number for her cell phone. Let's give her a call, shall we, Mr. Idle?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead just punching the number into his phone.

At first, he thought his hunch had been incorrect. That he had been wrong, dead wrong. The phone rang several times in Diego's ear.

Then, the silence of the court was broken by an electronic series of tones. It was a dark ringtone, almost like a creepy version of carousel music. All eyes went to the observers' seats, where Viola pulled out a cell phone with trembling hands. "…He…hello?"

"Hi there." Diego hung up his own cell phone as the spectators started to murmur. Off to the side, Zeke was staring up at his daughter in shock. "There we have it, Your Honor. The girlfriend."

"What's going on, Mr. Armando?" The judge looked utterly confused. Marshall's face twisted in understanding, while Idle's face went white. "Who is this woman?"

Diego went back to the files. He slammed his hand down on the one he needed and closed his eyes.

_Last chance to back out, Armando._

But that wasn't his style. Besides, go big or go home. That was one of his rules.

_I am so dead._

He swiped the photo off the table and spun it around to face the bench. "Your Honor! I submit this photograph of Viola Cadaverini to the court record."

"Wh—what?!" The judge looked down at Idle, who was now anxiously punching his own palms. "Cadaverini? Why, that's—!"

"That's my baby girl!" Zeke roared. "Are you sayin' this two-bit, dime store copper was tryin' to get into my little girl's pants?! I oughta—!"

Diego pressed on his client's shoulder to calm him down, though it didn't seem to work. The vein in Zeke's forehead throbbed and he growled in frustration.

"Well, Mr. Idle? Is Viola Cadaverini the girl you were going to meet?" The judge folded his arms as he stared down at the witness stand. "Tell the truth, please."

"…Yes," Idle finally admitted. "Viola and I have been together for a few months now. It would've caused problems with my job, and probably her family, so…we had to keep it secret. I even bought her a cell phone so she could talk to me."

"You lousy son of a—!" In seconds, Zeke was on his feet, charging at the witness stand. The judge shouted for the bailiffs at the same time that Diego tried to pull him back. "I'm gonna tear you limb from limb!"

Diego seized Zeke around the middle and bodily picked him up. Marshall ran forward and yanked Idle away from the two of them. Zeke was swinging wildly over Diego's shoulder, like a feral cat, swearing and shouting. He managed to scratch and claw his way over Diego's back, causing the both of them to topple over onto the floor.

As Marshall hustled the witness out of the courtroom, Zeke howled in rage and began to flail even harder. He and Diego wrestled for a few seconds: Diego was trying to drag Zeke back to the defendant lobby and Zeke was trying to kick and punch his way past. In the fray, there was a loud _crack! _and Diego ended up slammed against the marble floor. He stumbled to his feet, clutching his head, the courtroom spinning.

"Diego!" Mia cried out for him and he tried to focus on her. "Diego, are you okay?!"

"Order! Order! Remove the defendant! Get Mr. Armando a medic! Get—get everyone out! I call a recess!" Diego blinked as the world swam around him, stars appearing before his eyes. The last sound he heard before he passed out was the sound of the judge's gavel banging.

* * *

**This chapter can also be called, "Viola Makes Poor Decisions About Men."**

**Mia Fey is my spirit animal, and if you don't believe that she would show a little cleavage and flirt to get evidence, then you're wrong and I'm sorry.**

**Seriously, everyone in the games is attracted to Mia. Which I get, because she is, in fact, the Queen of Attorneys. And the Queen is not above using her magnificent body to obtain evidence.**


	6. Chapter 6

**This is a short chapter for me, but it's my longest and most dialogue-dense scene. Happy reading!**

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_Remember if he ever leaves you high and dry  
Don't cry alone in pain, don't ever feel ashamed_

_~Frankie Valli, "Opus 17"_

* * *

"Again," Zeke said remorsefully. "Real sorry, Armando."

"It's okay," Diego said, although he still sounded dazed as he held the ice pack to his head. "No harm done."

Zeke rubbed the back of his head. "Ah…that probably didn't look too good for me, huh?"

"Not really." Diego took the ice pack off and rubbed the lump that was currently on his head. "Ugh…where did Viola go?"

"Oh, your pretty little assistant took her to go get some hot chocolate downstairs."

"She's not my pretty little assistant," Diego replied. "She's my brilliant little law partner, and she probably just saved your stupid little ass." He held up the crumpled up note she had thrown him. "She's been catching some of the contradictions in Idle's testimony."

"Huh?" Zeke clearly did not understand what was happening at his own murder trial. "Uh, is that good?"

"That's fantastic," Diego mumbled. God, how had he never realized how hard the marble floors were until he slammed his head off them? The medics had tried to send him home, claiming he had a concussion, but he'd insisted he finish the case.

After this, he was taking a week off. Fuck Grossberg.

"…I feel like I messed up."

Diego glanced over. Zeke had his head in hands. He sighed and said, "Look, Zeke, it is what it is. At the very least, you only knocked me out, not the witness."

Zeke shook his head, his voice muffled from his hands. "That ain't what I was talkin' about. I'm talking about Viola."

"What about her?" Diego asked. Privately, he thought Zeke should be more worried about his own skin. But, then again, Diego didn't have any children. "How did you mess up?"

"I didn't even know," he said bitterly. "She didn't tell me she was datin' this kid. This cop. I woulda gotten over it if she'd just told me." He raised his head. "I told you, I'm runnin' a clean life now. I don't got nothin' to hide from a cop. But…she didn't trust me, I guess."

Deigo shifted uncomfortably. "Look," he told Zeke, "teenagers lie to their parents. I mean, think of everything you did in your life that you never told your parents about." Zeke gave a weak chuckle. "See? It's perfectly normal for teenage girls to hide their boyfriends and cell phones—"

"And that cell phone!" Zeke threw his hands up. "Her mother and I, we both said she was too young for one. We'd get her one when she turned eighteen, you know? She always said she didn't have nobody to call, anyway." He sighed miserably. "Goes to show me, don't it?"

"_Like I was saying,"_ Diego continued, "it doesn't make you a failure as her father. It just means that she's a normal teenager."

There were a few seconds of silence as Zeke digested this. Then, he said, "Armando, you got any kids?"

"Nope."

"So, you're just talkin' out your ass, aren't you?"

Diego snorted. "Well…a little." He glanced over at Zeke. "Did it help?"

"…A little," he admitted. "We just used to be so close, you know. She'd come home from school and tell me every little detail of her day. But…when she got older, she pulled away. It's hard, you know?"

He gave Diego a grin as the door opened. Mia was leading Viola in, with Dom trailing behind them like a lost puppy. Viola immediately went to Zeke, who stood up.

"Daddy…I'm sorry…" She hugged him and he kissed her forehead.

"Hey, baby girl," he said softly. "I forgive you. You're my little girl."

Diego nodded to the corner. "Take a few minutes, Zeke. Court won't start for another ten minutes."

As Zeke, Viola, and Dom went to the other couch to talk in private, Diego sighed. "Geez, this case. What a dramatic shitshow. I feel like I'm trying to finish a puzzle when I don't have all the pieces."

Mia leaned down, her voice soft in his ear. "What piece are you missing?"

"Motive." Diego glanced over his shoulder, trying to ignore the feelings that kept stirring inside him when she whispered in his ear like that. "But I have a working theory. Idle killed Joey because he found out about his relationship with Viola."

"That's a kind of weak motive, though," she replied.

"It's the only one I've got."

"…I might have a better one," she said in a low voice. She sat down beside Diego. "I just had a heart to heart with Viola. And the pieces fit, just not how you'd expect."

"Mia Fey," he said, relief flooding his voice, "if I don't end up another round racked up in Bruto Cadaverini's gun, I'm taking you out to dinner. Anywhere you want, I'll pay. You can even make me sit across the restaurant and pretend you don't know me."

Mia didn't even crack a smile. "Unfortunately, we have a bit of a problem. It would probably make Idle crack if she testified, but…"

"Don't tell me," he said wryly, glancing over at where the girl and her father stood. "Our shrinking little Violetta doesn't want to testify."

"Got it in one."

Diego nodded. "Alright. Tell me about it. Maybe we can work our way around the whole thing."

Mia exhaled softly. "You remember how Zeke said he saw Joey the day he died?" Diego nodded. "Well, he left a bit of it out. Apparently, Zeke was in a panic over Viola. He asked Joey for help finding her."

"And the good officer did so, right?" Mia nodded. "Okay, so Viola saw the victim before the murder. Was she a witness to Joey's death?"

"No, but she did speak with him right before." Mia moved a little closer, bringing her voice down. "Joey told her that he was worried about her."

"Worried?" Diego rubbed his chin. "Why would he be worried?"

"Let me answer your question with another question." Mia nodded her head at the Cadaverini's. "Why would a newly minted police officer—a patrolman, by the way, a 20 year old kid—want to date a Cadaverini?"

"Because he thinks she's pretty?" Diego said dryly. "Because he's horny? I don't know, Mia, do I look like—"

_"Because she's a Cadaverini._" Mia rolled her eyes. "Honestly, think for a minute. The police have been trying to pin something on Bruto Cadaverini for decades. There have been countless sting operations, dozens of informants, and a ton of undercover agents who mysteriously go missing." She swiped her bangs out of her eyes. "Idle probably met her in the park or something and realized who she was. He saw a chance to get some dirt on a crime family that's generations old."

"…That's…absolutely plausible." Diego rubbed his chin. "You said he had all those old case files, right? Maybe our boy Idle thought this was his big break."

"But that's the thing. According to Viola, he really loves her." Mia folded her arms. "She's a romantic at heart. She's still lying to herself and telling herself that he cares about her."

"He's trying to pin the murder on her dad!" Diego put his head in his hands. "Anyway...this doesn't prove anything."

"Oh, yes, it does," Mia said firmly. "Idle couldn't keep his mouth shut at the precinct. He kept bragging about how he had an 'inside man' on the Cadaverini's. Joey warned Viola that Idle was just using her to further his career." She held out the notepad she'd been carrying. "I found it on Joey's desk. He sits—well, sat—right next to Idle."

"Idle must have caught the two of them," Diego continued. "He must have overheard them. Then he heard Joey tell Viola the truth…"

"…and killed him for it," Mia finished. "The missing piece. Motive."

"Okay. So, we call Viola to testify, right?" Mia shook her head and Diego groaned. "Okay, not right. Why is that not right?"

"I told you," Mia sighed. "Viola…refuses. She just told me she won't do it."

"You have got to be kidding me. I'll subpoena her!" Diego stood up, making to go to the courtroom, but Mia grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back down. "Ow!"

"Slow it down there," she chastised him. "If you subpoena Viola and she refuses to talk, what'll happen?"

"She'll be found in contempt of court," he spat. "And then maybe she'll loosen her tongue…"

"Or maybe," Mia said, "her grandfather might just get her out of prison. By taking care of the root problem. You know, that pesky defense attorney that subpoenaed her?"

Diego exhaled, deflated. "…I don't get it. Can't she see that Idle doesn't really care about her?"

"You don't understand," Mia explained patiently. "Teenage girls are…complicated."

Diego let out a dry laugh. "I remember. I was a teenage boy."

"You still are. Anyway, _being _a teenage girl is complicated." Mia folded her arms. "The world heaps expectations on you…expectations that you don't always meet. Sometimes, you feel worthless."

"…But Idle made her feel worthy," he finished.

Mia smiled. "All Viola wants is for someone to love her for the person she is. If she testifies about what Holland told her…then that love comes crashing down. It's a hard pill to swallow."

"Bitter," he said, swirling his coffee. "Yeah, I get that."

"Viola isn't stupid. She knows what's going on." Mia sighed sadly. "But _knowing_ what's going on and _admitting_ what's going on are two very different things."

"Right, right," Diego grumbled. "That leaves us with a problem, though. Without Viola's testimony, Zeke is screwed."

"So we convince her to testify," Mia said. She tilted her head, her hair falling down over her eye. "If Viola testifies herself, then Bruto Cadaverini won't have any reason to be upset with you."

"Ha! Yeah, right." Diego took a drink. "Bruto Cadaverini dotes on his granddaughter. The general rule of thumb is, keep her name out of your mouth." He exhaled. "Just mentioning her name is enough to get you on his hitlist."

"Then we might as well try," Mia told him. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?"

"Fortune favors the bold," he agreed, air-toasting her with his mug. "Speaking of which…"

Diego reached over and gently brushed her hair back behind her ear. He leaned down and kissed her cheek; her skin was hot with embarrassment. "Diego!"

"About that dinner date," he said softly. "Think about it. Seriously."

"…I'll think about it," she told him. "But I promise nothing."

"I'll do all the promising, kitten." He leaned away and glanced over at Viola. "Well, I'd better go talk to her."

"Remember," Mia said, "she might be a scared teenager, but don't treat her like a child."

"Got it." Diego straighted his waistcoat and walked over to the Cadaverini's. He nodded at Viola. "Hey, kid."

"Hello…Mr. Armando." Viola turned her head down, her voice so soft that he barely heard her.

"So. You know what I'm going to say." He leaned against the wall. In the glass of the picture on the wall, Diego could see Mia, still sitting on the couch. "Viola, you need to testify about what Joey told you. Or else your dad's going to rot in prison."

Mia grimaced. Viola folded her arms. "…Please leave me alone."

"Alright, Armado," Zeke said, his voice unnaturally loud compared to his daughter's, "that's enough."

"It's not enough. You of all people should care about your own fate, Zeke." Diego nodded at Viola. "Her testimony could save your life, but she's too scared to do anything about it."

Zeke grabbed Diego's collar. "I'm about to knock you out again, Armando," he growled.

Their fight was cut off by Mia's footsteps. "Viola? Mr. Armando might not be the most eloquent guy in the room, but…you know he's right, don't you?"

Viola blinked. "…I…"

"Idle is using you to put your father in jail. Your testimony could keep him out."

Viola didn't say anything, just staring at Mia with an odd look on her face. Diego felt Zeke's fist unclench around his collar.

"Look," Mia said, ducking her head to look at Viola, "I understand how you feel. You probably feel stupid, and maybe a little cheap, too."

Zeke puffed up his chest. "Hey, don't you talk about my—!"

Mia held up her hand for him to stop talking. "Am I right?" When Viola didn't answer, Mia continued, "I'll bet I am. I'll bet he made you feel special, didn't he? Like you were an actual person, and not just a Cadaverini."

"…Stop." Viola clenched her pale fists and turned away from Mia.

"So let me break all your illusions, Violetta." Mia folded her arms and cocked her hip. "Kyle Idle doesn't love you. He doesn't even like you. He's only _using _you. He tried to use you to get to your grandfather, and now he's using you to frame your father for murder."

Zeke growled in his throat. "Listen, girl, I don't care who are, nobody talks like that to my Viola!"

Mia ignored him, instead focusing her eyes on the teenager, who was still avoiding her gaze. "Idle wants you to stay quiet, Viola. He wants you to be the obedient little girl who won't talk. Your silence benefits no one but him."

"…I know…" Viola's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. There was a faint sparkling trail of a tear on her cheek. "You're right…"

Mia gave her a gentle smile. "Now, what are you going to do about it?"

"What…?"

"I said," Mia asked, "what are you going to do about it? You can stay quiet or you can speak up. It's your choice, Violetta, no one else's."

Before Viola could answer, the bailiff came through the doors. "Defense will return to the courtroom. Please allow any witnesses to enter first."

For a few seconds, all three adults in the room waited. Viola didn't move.

Diego exhaled. "We'll think of something to get to the truth. Come on, Zeke, let's get moving." He started for the door.

Before he could get into the courtroom, however, he felt something gently brush past his arm. He looked down to see Viola. She was holding her arm as if she were trying to shield herself, but her solemn eyes focused ahead of her.

"Excuse me, you are…in my way…"

* * *

**I really felt bad for Viola after watching the anime. Tigre was a scumbag, and all she wanted was to be happy.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I've been watching a lot of the original Law & Order. Ben Stone is, hands down, my favorite ADA in the entire series. It's really been spurring me to write some more case fics.**

* * *

_T__hen she said to my surprise  
Big girls don't cry_

_~Frankie Valli, "Big Girls Don't Cry"_

* * *

Viola Cadaverini looked particularly small on the witness stand. Diego had to admit, she made a good witness: sympathetic without coming off as weak. Beside him, he watched Mia swallow nervously.

"You're up, kitten," he murmured, nudging Mia with his elbow.

It had been a last minute decision: as they all went to follow Viola into the courtroom, Diego had grabbed Mia's arm.

"She's the last chance we have of getting Zeke acquitted," he said. "You have the magic touch with this girl. Cross examine her."

Mia grimaced. "I've never cross examined anyone before," she protested. "You need to do it. I'll just screw the whole thing up."

"Listen," Diego said firmly, "I've seen you at work. You're brilliant, but you'll never be exceptional until you actually get out there in the courtroom. And…besides that…I don't like admitting this, but, well…" He sighed. "_I need you in there with me._ I won't be able to get Viola to talk without you."

Mia thought about it. "Alright," she finally said. "So long as you don't mind working with a newbie."

Now, she was straightening her jacket as she stepped up to the witness stand. Diego felt that familiar hum in his blood that always came before the end of a trial. He gripped his coffee mug tighter.

"Um, witness, state your name and occupation for the record."

Viola stared at her with wide, dark eyes. "...Viola Cadaverini. I am...a student."

Mia nodded and gestured to the defendant's chair. "And you are Mr. Cadaverini's daughter, correct?"

"...Yes."

"And you're also Officer Idle's girlfriend, too?" Mia pressed.

Viola turned away. "I was…"

Diego took a deep breath and nodded encouragingly. Mia was clearly uncomfortable, but she was holding it together well. She walked past the prosecutor's table. "Alright, Viola. Please tell us about the day of Officer Holland's death. What happened?"

Viola hesitated. She seemed to be having an internal battle. Diego clenched his fist.

"...Viola? It was your birthday, right?" Mia turned her head to the side, giving the girl that charming smile. "Did you do anything special for it?"

Viola nodded. "...Kyle wanted to take me...on a walk in the park. But then Daddy...had a surprise. He said that he wanted to...go for lunch."

"So you snuck away from your father?" Mia asked.

"Objection!" Marshall called. "She's leading the witness, Your Honor."

The judge nodded. "Ms., er...Fey. Please allow the witness to testify."

"I-I'm sorry!" Mia said, her face flushing red. "I'm sorry, Your Honor."

"Go ahead, Viola," Diego urged. "Tell us what happened."

Viola closed her eyes. "...Daddy was getting money from the bank machine. I left...to meet up with Kyle. But...I didn't find him."

"You didn't find him?" Mia said, surprised. "You didn't see Officer Idle at all that day?"

Viola shook her head as she opened her eyes. "I saw...Mr. Joey." She gave a sad smile. "I knew him from...Daddy's work. He would come in and play air hockey with me…"

The girl fell quiet. Diego opened his mouth to prompt her again, but Mia shook her head. After a few seconds of silence, Viola continued.

"Mr. Joey saw me and said that Daddy...was looking for me. That I should go find him. But...before I went, he said...he wanted to talk to me."

"What about?" Mia questioned.

"...About Kyle." Viola turned away again. Diego realized she was avoiding looking at the observers' seats, where Idle was. "He told me that...he knew about me and Kyle. And that I should...watch out. Because Kyle just wanted to get evidence...about my grandpa's crimes."

"That's not true!" Idle shouted. The judge banged his gavel. "I love you, Vi, you know I do! Don't let these guys get in your head!"

A faint sparkle appeared on Viola's cheeks. "..."

"Order! Mr. Idle, please refrain from any outbursts like that!" The judge reached into his robe and handed a handkerchief to Mia. "Er...Ms. Fey, would you mind…?"

"Of course." Mia handed it to Viola. "Here we go."

"...Thank you." Viola dried her tears and inhaled. "Um...so Mr. Joey told me not to see Kyle anymore."

"Did you see Kyle after that?" Mia asked. Viola shook her head.

"I went back...to Daddy. We got ice cream." She frowned even deeper. "Then he was arrested...by Kyle."

"Thank you, Viola." Mia smiled and nodded encouragingly. "Mr. Marshall is going to ask you some questions now."

As Mia went back to the defense table. Diego patted her shoulder proudly. "Nice job, kitten," he whispered. "Now you can relax. The truth is out there now."

She smiled as Marshall stepped up to the stand. "Ms. Cadaverini," he began, "I'd like to ask a quick question. Did you see Officer Holland's murder?"

"...No."

"So you don't really have any evidence," he continued. "I mean, the story of your romantic troubles is a good rustling story, but it doesn't have anything to do with this case."

"Objection!" Diego slammed his mug down. The coffee sloshed over onto his hand. "Your Honor, the defense would like to take this opportunity to present an alternative theory of the crime."

"Go on, Mr. Armando." The judge nodded. "What's your theory?"

"Your Honor," Diego said with a crazed sort of determination, "the defense would like to make a formal accusation. We accuse the witness, Kyle Idle, of the murder of Officer Joseph Holland!"

The crowd murmured. Viola started to silently cry again.

"Officer Idle killed Holland to prevent his secret from coming out!" Diego continued. "He then pinned the blame on the one person he knew would look guilty: a Cadaverini!"

"There's no evidence of that idea," Marshall argued back. "Can your witness provide anything that points to Kyle Idle?"

Diego fell quiet. He racked his brain, trying to think of something, _anything_, that would support his case. Mia suddenly gasped.

"Viola! A few more questions." She leaned forward. "What was Officer Idle wearing when he arrested your father?"

Viola tilted her head. "His uniform. The...blue one."

"Think carefully," Mia continued. "Was there anything strange about Officer Idle's belt when he arrested your father?"

"His...belt?" Everyone in the room stared at her as Viola frowned. "Um…"

"Mia," Diego hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Shh." She glanced up at Idle, above them. He was looking worried, though Diego couldn't figure out why. "Let her answer."

"...He was missing his gun," Viola finally said. "The holster was gone, too. I know because...he always put his cuffs right next to it. But he didn't have the gun when he arrested Daddy."

"So, Kyle Idle was in his uniform, with no service weapon, when he arrested Zeke Cadaverini." Mia confidently flipped her bangs. "That's a contradiction."

"A...what?" Viola blinked at Mia. "What does...that mean?"

"It means that we need a recess," Diego said. He glanced up at the judge. "Your Honor?"

"Objection!" Marshall shouted. "We don't need a recess! Just because the witness was forgetful about his outfit?"

"Kyle Idle insisted that he was wearing plainclothes that day," Diego argued. "If that was actually untrue, then we need him to testify again. He can clarify why, exactly, he was lying."

The judge rubbed his chin. "Hmm...while this is a minor contradiction...I think it's important that we establish the truth here. Let's take an hour recess for lunch, then we can continue with Mr. Idle's testimony. Any more questions for Ms. Cadaverini?"

"No, Your Honor." Diego glanced over at the girl on the stand. "I think we've heard enough."

"I'm fine, Your Honor." Marshall nodded and flicked his hat. "The little lady can go ahead and head off into the sunset."

"Very good. Recess called for an hour." The judge banged his gavel with finality. "See you back here after lunch."

* * *

"I'm so proud of you, Viola." Zeke kissed his daughter's forehead and hugged her. "Seriously. That took some serious guts, _vita mia!_"

Diego and Mia both chuckled watching Zeke gush over his daughter. "Ah, parenthood," Diego said, his mouth full of noodles. "How sweet."

They'd ordered delivery to the courthouse, not wanting to waste time with going somewhere for lunch. The Dancing Dragon, a Chinese restaurant that Mia loved. She slurped her own noodles and smiled.

"It's heartening. Usually we see the worst of humanity, and now we're seeing the best." She nodded to Zeke. "He really adores her."

"Pass the potstickers." Diego took a bite. "Clever play back there, kitten, bringing up the clothes. But I have no idea what to do next."

"Next we work backwards." Mia took a drink of water. "If Idle changed his clothes, why?"

Diego swallowed his food. "To hide evidence. I thought it was weird that there was no blood on anything."

"If he was hiding evidence," she continued, twining noodles around her chopsticks, "then he had to go somewhere to change his clothes."

Diego snapped his fingers. "That's why he went to his apartment! He knew he couldn't call for backup unless he changed his clothes. He ran back, tossed his gun, and changed. Called for backup and made a quick excuse for it."

"Something's bothering me." Mia dabbed her mouth with a napkin and tossed her trash. "I'll bet you anything it's been bothering you, too."

"The gun." Diego basketball-shot his trash into the can. It hit the bottom with a clang. "Joey's gun was left behind at the crime scene. Why wouldn't he take it with him? Why did Joey even have his gun out in the first place?"

Mia rubbed her chin. "Hmm...good question. Let's find out." She stood up and motioned for Diego to do the same. "Imagine you're Joey."

"Okay, I'll bite." Diego stood up and hunched his shoulders. "An old grizzled cop, tired of the depravity of the big city. I'm two days away from retirement."

"Alright, imagine less." Mia rolled her eyes. "I'm Idle. I've just seen you and Viola talking. I heard you tell her to stay away from me."

"Viola walks away." Diego put his hands on his hips. "I'm a little worried." He frowned. "I watch her walk away, to make sure she's safe."

"Right. I come out from behind the trees. I'm pissed, because you're trying to ruin this for me." Mia put her hands together and mimed pulling a gun. "Defending a mobster's kid. Some cop you are."

"Excuse me," Diego said with a grin. "I am a _great_ cop."

"So I'm going to shoot you." Mia pointed her finger gun at Diego's head. "But where's your gun…?"

"At my hip." Diego put his hand on his belt. "I hear you come up behind me. I turn around." He frowned. "Wait a minute. What would I do if I saw you with your gun drawn?"

"I'm another cop," Mia stated. "One you don't like, but still. Another cop surely wouldn't be aiming a gun at you."

"No," Diego remarked. "No, that's crazy. Must be something behind me, so I turn around…"

Diego did so, turning around with his gun drawn. Mia pretended to shoot him.

"The blood sprays over here," she said, gesturing ahead of Diego. "I panic."

"I fall." Diego pretended to fall to his knees. "The gun's still in my hand. When I hit the ground, it bounces away."

"That makes sense," Mia said. "So Idle runs away to his apartment. He's scared, he's confused, he's freaking out." She sat back down and pulled the lid off a bowl of soup. "Wonton?"

"No thanks, I'm good." Diego went to the coffee maker. "If he went to his apartment, where'd _his_ gun go?"

"Probably a dumpster." Mia sighed. "It's long gone by now. Idle got rid of it, tossed his bloody clothes, and pretended like it never happened. The only thing we have as evidence is...well, nothing."

"Not quite." Diego refilled his mug with coffee and sat down beside her. "We have Viola's testimony. We know that Idle is lying about what he saw." He shrugged. "He's back up on the stand after this. Why don't you take a crack at him?"

"Me?" Mia choked on her soup. Diego slapped her back. "Me?" she sputtered. "Why?"

"You keep asking for trial experience. Here you go." He nodded. "Plus, the less time I spend talking to that stupid little punk, the better."

Mia laughed. "Alright, then. I guess I can cross examine him. As Neil said, I'll be happy to save your sorry ass."

Diego toasted her plastic soup bowl with his mug. "And, let me tell you, I appreciate it, kitten."


End file.
